


Down the Rabbit Hole

by Lollipoplou



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crime Fighting, Dark, Domestic Fluff, Drama, Drama & Romance, Drug Use, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love, M/M, Magic, Ride or Die Relationships, Romance, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Superheroes, Superpowers, Thriller, love square
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-21 06:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 117,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10680039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lollipoplou/pseuds/Lollipoplou
Summary: Superhero AU USUK. In a city guarded by vigilantes, the bright eyed Columbia (aka Alfred Jones) aspires for the elusive recognition of the infamous Britannia Angel. But as mysterious forces and a malevolent darkness closes in, threatening to take away all he loves, Alfred must move quickly to unravel it's sinister plot, and discover what it has to do with his newest friend, Arthur Kirkland.





	1. Arthur and Alfred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superhero AU USUK. In a city guarded by vigilantes, the bright eyed Columbia (aka Alfred Jones) aspires for the elusive recognition of the infamous Britannia Angel. But as mysterious forces and a malevolent darkness closes in, threatening to take away all he loves, Alfred must move quickly to unravel it's sinister plot, and discover what it has to do with his newest friend, Arthur Kirkland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or what to ask me a question?  
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

“An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. The thread may stretch or tangle, but never break.” – Ancient Chinese Proverb

* * *

Terra City, University of Gaia, Lecture Hall 1

“Jones? Jones!” Alfred F. Jones jumped awake and his startled sky-blue eyes went wide as his head snapped up off his desk; a chorus of laughter filled the crowded lecture hall while Professor Bonnefoy stared up at him with both hands on his hips. Aw crap. it’d happened again, Alfred thought as he turned and glared accusatively at his twin brother Matthew (smug jerk) for allowing him do to so.

“Is the french revolution not cutting it for you? Shall we go back medieval economics instead?”. There was a collective groan from Alfred’s surrounding fellow students at the memory of the particularly tortuous subject. The sunny blond american sheepishly grinned and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh, sorry professor. I didn’t get much sleep last night, too uh- too busy studying for this this class!” He laughed and flashed his brightest grin as an apology. His history lecturer, professor Francis Bonnefoy, gave a chuckle of his own before he checked his wristwatch and set down his book on his clustered desk.

“While I encourage you to keep up the hard work, I would appreciate it if you kept the napping, at least in my class, to a minimum. Though I will have to ask you to stay behind to receive your punishment” The professor returned with a quirked fair brow and Alfred gave a low groan as the bell rung and there was the general clatter as books were gathered together to leave. The students slowly filtered themselves out of the hall and Alfred rose and waited beside the Professor’s desk, shooting Matthew ‘I am so gonna chew you out later’ eyes as he passed. Francis let out a deep sigh before he turned and looked at his student.

“Sleeping in my class isn’t the only reason I’ve asked you to stay behind, Alfred. You are failing, and if you don’t get your act together, then I’m afraid you are not going to graduate”. Alfred huffed and ran his hand sloppily down his face. Great, just what he needed on top of everything else.

“I- uh, jeez, is there anything I can do for extra credit or…?” Alfred suggested hopefully and his stomach jumped when a smug smirk slipped onto his professor’s face.

“It’s funny that you should mention that” Francis purred and looked up as someone appeared at the open doorway. When Alfred turned and looked to, he recognised person who stood there. Wearing a loose cameo green shirt and black pants, was a young man in his early twenties with choppy golden hair and furrowed comically thick eyebrows; his strikingly green eyes scowled as they alternated between Alfred and Francis. The elusive english student, Arthur Kirkland. Alfred didn’t know much about him, only that he majored in English Literature, and he was reportedly a genius when it came to academic studies. Mysterious, talented, and easy on the eye (if Alfred was being honest), Arthur made for an person of interest that drew many’s attention.

“What do you want Francis?” The blond snapped as he stepped into the hall, his footsteps bounced as echoes off the walls and Alfred had had to suppress the delicious shiver that ran down his spine at that glorious, glorious english accent.

“Ah! Arthur, allow me to introduce your assistant for this evening, my student Alfred Jones” Francis beamed and Arthur’s eyes turned on Alfred in disbelief before they narrowed back at the frenchman.

“I didn’t ask for an assistant. I am perfectly capable of covering the story by myself” He cooly dismissed and Francis motioned over to Alfred.

“He needs the extra credit Arthur, please. With this I’ll say we are square”. Arthur visible squared his jaw in irritation.

“Fine,” He relented through gritted teeth after a long moment, “but we are even now. You” Arthur pointed at Alfred, “follow me. The exhibition starts in half an hour and I do not want to get stuck in traffic”. With that, Arthur spun on his heel and breezed out of the hall, leaving Alfred to stare at his professor as though to question whether he even had a say in the matter.

“You’d better catch up with him. Arthur can be quite impatient” Francis winked at him and gestured him to get a move on. Alfred’s feet shuffled clumsily before they found themselves and he jogged after Arthur, able to catch up easily in his excellent shape just as they got to the university’s entrance steps. Alfred fell into step alongside Arthur and stole a glance at him, the Brit kept his eyes forward to scan the traffic that had began to build up.

“Hey, so I’m Alfred Jones, failing history student and your partner tonight. Nice to meet cha’” Alfred spoke up with an extension of his hand. Arthur gave the briefest of glances at it.

“Yes, I know. Francis said” He curtly replied and Alfred had to work to keep his smile from slipping. Wow, amongst all the talk about him, no one had said anything about Arthur having a sucky attitude.

“Yeah, he did. But, I thought I’d do the polite thing and introduce myself properly, so I’ll try again. Hey, I’m Alfred Jones” Alfred put out in a sickly sweet politeness, daring Arthur with his eyes to refuse him. To his credit, Arthur met his stare head on (the couple of inches Alfred had on him not deterring him in the slightest) and didn’t waver for a couple of seconds before he forcefully strained a smile and shook Alfred’s hand.

“Well then, Alfred Jones, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Arthur Kirkland. Thank you for coming with me this evening. It’s just a shame we’ll be late getting there” Arthur finished with a sigh and a motion to the gridlocked roads. Alfred followed his gaze and chewed his lip thoughtfully before he lightly smacked Arthur on the arm.

“I have bike, it’ll get us there fast. And, I’ll let you have the helmet” He grinned and set off towards the parking lot, leaving Arthur to follow after him with an expression of pleasant surprise.

* * *

Diamond District, Terra City’s Gallery of Art

Alfred’s bike slowed smoothly to a stop in front of the architectural miracle that was the Terra City’s art gallery, a huge structure of glass and metal lit up by colourful spotlights of yellow tones. The bike swayed as Arthur climbed down from behind Alfred and took off his helmet, his messy hair now even more tousled than before.

“Well, that was impressive, cutting a ten minute drive down to four,” Arthur remarked as he traded the helmet for his bag that contained his camera and voice recorder, “though admittedly, I thought we would crash a few times”.

“Na, you had nothing to worry about. I’ve been driving her since I was thirteen,” Alfred reassured while he propped, and chained up the bike to a nearby lamppost. That done, the two of them walked up the gallery’s long stone steps towards the entrance, passing large promotion banners. When Alfred looked closer, they read ‘Mind’s Twilight collection by Mia Everson’.

“So obviously it’s an article about the exhibition, the artist from what you told is some weird, spiritual, voodoo lady which is cool an’ all I guess. But what I don’t get is why you’re the one covering it? I thought you were an English student” He asked as they stepped inside, Arthur flashed his press pass he had been given to security and they were guided past the queuing masses; jealous art lovers and low level critics glaring at them as they bypassed straight to the front; Alfred couldn’t help but feel childishly excited as they went in. He had never been to anything resembling such a high class event as this, coming from a middle class background himself. It wasn’t hard to venture from the way Arthur was acting that he was quite used to fancy events.

“I am, but the girl who was supposed to be on this had to drop out suddenly, and well, she’s an old friend so I volunteered in her place” Arthur answered while he bowed his head to adjust his camera settings, and then raised it to take a wide shot of the exhibition hall. The great hall was vast and lit in low lighting to give an atmospheric presence, with the paintings illuminated just barely enough to be seen. There was a very sophisticated air that radiated from the present wealthy and first class, all dressed in prim suits and elegant gowns that brought to Alfred’s attention how out of place his bomber jacket and jeans were. At least Arthur could get away with the smart/casual look.

“That was decent of you,” Alfred complimented and gave Arthur a friendly smile, “and here I thought you were just a big ol’ grumpy gills”. Arthur rolled his eyes at him, but Alfred caught sight with delight the unwilling smile he had tried to hide with his hand while he pretended to clear his throat. Huh, the more Alfred was getting to know him, the more he was imagining the two of them as friends. Arthur cleared his throat again before he pointed over to the centre of the room where a formally dressed man stood on an elevated platform with a microphone; behind him a wide screen that had a heavy draped curtain concealing the piece beneath it.

“We should take a closer look, that must be the centre piece of the collection” Arthur leaned in and Alfred gave his response as a nod. When they moved closer, the man’s nasally voice came into range.

“And without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure and honour to at last unveil Everson’s final masterpiece of the collection, ‘Lucid’”. The man then reached up for the unveiling cord and gave it a sharp yank to cause the curtain to fall.

The canvas was huge and at it’s centre were two figures divided by a line with a swirling, inky cloud that was filled with many number fours. From the inky cloud, twin trails reached down to feed down into the twin humans’ heads, and that was the end of the similarities as after that the humans differed. The figure on the right was plain and stood with it’s eyes closed, the trail of ink that attached to it’s head looping back on itself. However, the one on the left was definitively different. The left human was wide awake and from the ink trail that passed through their head, instead of coming out as the same black colour as the right had, it came out golden. It was a stream that flowed, branching off all around the figure in spirals and curls; one particularly thick stem returning to the cloud it had came from. Alfred awed at the colours and masterful strokes, but when he looked at Arthur for his reaction, he saw that Arthur’s face was pale in the dim lighting with a look of alarm. However, before he could ask, the man on the platform spoke up again.

“A great many have wondered what the story could possibly be behind this wonderful painting, and now I will explain it to you all. As you all know, Everson was a firm believer of the estranged and mythical, especially in power of dreams. Lucid dreams to be exact, dreams where one becomes conscious that one is unconscious, and thus becomes capable of influencing the dream. Effectively becoming a master of your own reality.

Everson, however, thought that there was a state beyond this state of lucidity, and that was exhibiting the same sensation of manipulation during wakefulness. Manipulation of the physical world on a molecular level with the power of the mind alone. Some would call it magic, some would call it science, but one thing is certain in all of this: it is unlike anything we could ever imagine”. There was a few gasps and a few more eye rolls at the man’s speech, believing his words for the utter nonsense they were, though Alfred found himself getting so swept up in excitement of the idea, that he did not notice Arthur’s body start to tense up.

“So why all the fours in that cloud there?” A woman with an upturned nose shouted out, and the man looked up to where the number repeated itself over and over inside the black oil.

“An excellent question, but unfortunately, one with an answer we can only speculate on. The fan favourite being that Everson perceived one’s dreams to be a glimpse of the fabled ‘fourth dimension’, accessible only through our subconsciouses and thereby explaining why we, as three dimensional beings, are unable to retain and replicate the lucidity we experience in our dreams. Of course, as Everson believed, save the special few depicted by the figure on the left”. There was another round of applause that slowly trailed off to general discussion. Alfred turned to Arthur and was taken aback at his rigid body language; clenched fists held on either side while his back was as straight as a board.

“Are you okay Arthur?” He asked with a gentle tap on his shoulder, and Arthur jumped as though he’d been shocked by a live wire.

“Yes. Fine,” Arthur dazedly replied before he looked back to the painting and with a heavy sigh, took a picture of it, “I am just tired, that’s all. We should -um, we should ask a few questions and get some quotes”. Alfred gave him a concerned once over before silently deciding to keep a close eye on him for the rest of the night and scanned the crowd for anyone that stood out.

“Oh I know it’s simply too unfair. The nerve of him, buying it up before it could even be considered for auction, and then deliberately choosing to include it in the exhibition to rub it in our faces! Doctor Braginsky, hm. Look at him there, standing there all smug admiring the painting that’ll be hanging above his fireplace soon enough!” Alfred couldn’t help but overhear the rant of a nearby loud lady to her friend, who looked bored out of her mind and examined her manicured nails lazily. On his tiptoes, Alfred spotted the man that he assumed was the doctor, stood alone looking up at the painting with both hands held together behind his back. Hmmm, so the good doctor had already brought the piece but had deliberately allowed it to be displayed tonight. Interesting…

“Arthur, I know who we can talk to” Alfred whispered as he grabbed Arthur’s hand without a thought and proceeded to drag him after him as he pushed through the crowd to the front; Arthur’s flushed rose cheeks unseen and his protests unheard. When they broke the line, Alfred saw that the doctor wasn’t as alone as he had thought. Two suited men that were clearly bodyguards, stood nearby and when Alfred made his way forward, they moved to block him.

“Please step back sir and enjoy the view” One with the ginger sideburns ordered, an obvious threat in his gritty voice. Alfred seized up the guard, and smugly entertained the thought of how different things would be if he were suited up; he could sideline them without the batter of an eyelid. However, he was not. He was in civilian mode, so he had to act like one.

“Uh, Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland from the University of Gaia’s student magazine. We were wondering if we could ask Mr Braginsky some questions about today’s collection?” He tried and the guards remained unimpressed. Arthur wrenched his arm free and was about to hiss that they should leave before he got them kicked out, when something occurred that neither of them expected to.

“Arthur Kirkland?” A heavily accented voice spoke up from behind the guards, and the pair instantly stepped aside to reveal doctor Ivan Braginsky. The Russian man was huge, with broad shoulders, a big nose and extremely unsettlingly violet eyes that locked themselves onto Arthur. Alfred’s brows frowned as he looked back to Arthur who seemed just as confused as Alfred was.

“Yes, that would be me” Arthur finally spoke up and extended his hand to the doctor, who after a long moment of pause took it; his large hand engulfed Arthur’s.

“It has been a long time” The doctor said with a smile that may have meant to be friendly, but instead made Alfred want to run away from the man. Arthur took his hand back stiffly.

“We have never met” The Brit disagreed, his tone one of confusion and the doctor gave a small laugh.

“Well, you were rather young at the time. I would be more surprised if you did remember. What did you say your business was here?”.

“Writing an article on the exhibition. As the owner of ‘Lucid’, we wondered if we could ask you a few questions about it” Alfred explained and gritted his teeth when the Russian’s eyes barely even looked his way before dismissing him in favour for Arthur. He was starting to dislike this doctor more with every second.

“What would you like to know?” Doctor Braginsky asked, the question very clearly directed at Arthur, who uncomfortably shifted his weight under the intense attention.

“Well, primarily, what do you find most attractive about Everson’s work?” Arthur replied as he took out his voice recorder and clicked the red button. The doctor pressed his lips thoughtfully.

“I would have to say that it’s her imaginations that strike me, the lore of it is quite fantastical to wonder about”. Arthur raised a thick brow at his answer.

“Pardon me for saying so, Doctor Braginsky, but I took you for a man of science”.

“I believe everyman is prone to flights of fantasy, what separates them is their ability to act on them” The doctor elaborated and Alfred felt there was some hidden meaning behind those words. This doctor was more than met the eye. He had a disconcerting aura about him, as though he were a wintry storm bound in flesh. Arthur’s head bobbed in neutral agreement and Alfred decided that he was not going to be ignored for any longer.

“So why were you so eager to buy ‘Lucid’ before it could be put up for auction?” He loudly asked, and could of swore that the doctor gave the quickest roll of his eyes before he met Alfred’s stare.

“Simple. Because I wanted it,” Doctor Braginsky curtly countered and, as Alfred predicted, immediately turned back to Arthur, “master Kirkland, do you have anywhere in particular to be tonight? If not, I would be happy to continue this interview in a more private location. Perhaps my penthouse? I have quite the collection of some of Everson’s older work that I think you would enjoy”. A pulse of alarm shot through Alfred and his eyes met Arthur’s in shared disturbance. Alfred gave him the tiniest of shake of his head, and Arthur returned it with the tiniest nod.

“That is very kind of you, doctor Braginsky. However, I must complete this article by tonight and we have not even seen the rest of the collection. If you’ll excuse us… Alfred?” Arthur looked to his partner and Alfred gave him a smile as he passed him on his way back to the crowd, before he to followed; a brief glance over his shoulder to reveal that the doctor’s eyes remained on them until the crowd separated them once again…

* * *

“So this is where he has been hiding,” Ivan hummed to himself as he watched Arthur Kirkland’s golden halo vanish into the masses. He looked to his security.

“Deliver master Kirkland to my apartment before I leave, unharmed. I do not care for how, only that it is done”.

“What of the one he is with?”.

“Keep his death clean. A nice open and close murder investigation for the police department”. The suited men nodded before they slipped after their targets. Ivan took in a deep breath and turned back to his masterpiece that had reunited him with Arthur; the lucid figure seemed to glare down at him accusatively.

“It is finally time to end this game of ours, Victoria” Ivan smiled to himself, plucking off a tall champagne glass off a passing waiter and sipped it slowly; enjoying it’s fizzy, sweet flavour.

* * *

 The sun was setting and the street was empty when Arthur and Alfred exited the museum, job done with Arthur even allowing Alfred to take a few pictures of his own towards the end of the evening. Despite his earlier reluctance, Arthur found that Alfred wasn’t the annoying, loudmouthed, meat headed jock he had had him penned for. There were moments during his constant rambling that Arthur felt were actually quite endearing, with rare hidden nuggets of information that hinted that Alfred was more intelligent than he had given him credit for. Arthur thought all of this while he occasionally peeked at him, always when Alfred wasn’t looking. His chatter akin to that of comforting background noise, and when it abruptly stopped at the top of the gallery steps, Arthur followed Alfred gaze down to where a gang of men dressed all in black waiting near Alfred’s bike. Arthur narrowed his eyes at them. They were as shady as anything, the stereotypical troublemakers ready to start some.

“Hey, don’t worry. Just follow my lead” Alfred’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Arthur blinked at him before he hilariously realised that Alfred had taken his silence as fear. Ah, if only he knew that Arthur could floor all of them before they could even blink. For the sake of appearances, Arthur gave a nervous bite of his lip and nodded. The reassuring smile Alfred shot him made his heart speed up for a reason Arthur couldn’t label as they walked down the steps towards the gang.

All eyes looked over to them as they approached and Arthur saw that a few tapped and nudged each other excitedly. Uh oh, may be Alfred’s lead had been too bold. As Alfred tried to move past, all seven moved to intercept and Arthur felt his stomach twitch as they shuffled to surround them.

“Is there a problem here fellas?” Brave, brave Alfred cautiously asked and there was an echoing laugh among the gang. Arthur silently groaned, he knew their type: only out for a fight. It would be very unlikely they would back down peacefully. One of the men with a black hoodie stepped forward and flashed his teeth like a shark.

“Not one mate” He hissed, and before Arthur even had time to react (which was fast by his reflexes) a gang member from behind slugged Alfred in the back, a solid thud! as the blow connected with his ribs and sent Alfred stumbling.

“Alfred!” Arthur cried out as he felt thick arms slip under his and lock around the back of his head; a full nelson hold. He grunted as he tried to bring his arms down, but the thug was well built and retaliated by applying more painful pressure on his neck. Shit. Double shit. While Arthur was held back, the other gang members closed in on Alfred. However, the american did not look scared by their numbers, and simply readied himself into a fighter’s stance; wide, low centre of gravity, arms raised on either side of his head.

“Trust me fellas, you really don’t want to do this” Arthur heard Alfred’s voice warn them and then the one in the hoodie snicker as he pulled a switchblade out of his pocket.

“Mate, for a thousand quid I’d kill you both. But I guess they wanted him,” the man motioned back to Arthur, “for themselves”. Alfred’s pupils shrank as they darted over to lock with Arthur’s, and created the perfect opening for the man to lunge with his knife.

Arthur’s brain instinctively shifted into gear as he brought his hands up, grabbed his capturer’s fingers and snapped them backwards without missing a heartbeat; the bones shattered with a sickening crack. The man screamed as he dropped Arthur, howling as he clutched his mangled digits. Landing balanced on the balls of his feet, Arthur pivoted and swung his elbow around to crunch into the man’s nose to finish the job. Upon hearing their comrade cry out in pain as he dropped, a few of the men turned away from attacking Alfred and frowned when they saw Arthur free.

“You little-” One of them spat and charged at Arthur in rage like a bull in an arena. With a smirk, Arthur sprang when the man came within range. His hand dipped low to grab the his ankle and without slowing his momentum, straightened up and yanked the man’s feet from under him; already sprinting for the next man before the other collapsed.

The one left had enough sense to try and run after seeing what he could do, but Arthur was enjoying himself too much to leave loose ends. He effortlessly caught up to the runner and leapt high to scissor his thighs around the man’s neck, then twisted his hips midair to leverage his bodyweight and slammed the man down to the concrete pavement. As he made whimpering noises at his feet, Arthur remained in his stance for a few seconds more, ready to kick the man in the head if he tried to raise for seconds. His heart pounded in his ears, his breaths shallow and quick, his limbs shook as adrenaline coursed through his veins and a light sweat had broken on his forehead. God, he loved it. So much so that he had to contain himself as not to smile when he looked over to Alfred; his exhilarated high fell with confusion when he saw Alfred was surrounded by unconscious bodies, mirroring his bemused expression as he stared back at him.

“Are you hurt?” Arthur forced himself to break the prolonged silence and saw Alfred shake his head as though to clear it. Thankfully, Arthur saw no visible wounds nor blood on him.

“Uh- yeah, I’m fine. You?” He replied numbly and Arthur nodded. Of course he was fine, as though those weaklings could of actually hurt him. Alfred stared at him with a mix of amazement and bafflement, not quite able to decide how he felt about what he had just seen.

“But you-, that was amazing! How did you do that?”. Arthur felt heat raise to his cheeks and forced himself to casually shrug.

“I’ve taken a few mixed martial arts lessons,” He lied before he raised an eyebrow at the gang members that lay motionless at Alfred’s feet. Hm, a more interesting thought was how had Alfred taken on all four men at once without a scratch?, “what about you?”. Alfred’s ears went red and rubbed his neck bashfully.

“Yeah, yeah self defence classes and all that”. Arthur wasn’t satisfied with an answer that sounded so wooly, but decided to let it rest. His instincts was nudging him that they should move on, that the pavement was too exposed.

“Well, I say we leave before any of them wake up” Arthur prompted as he stepped over (and deliberately on a few), towards where Alfred’s bike was stood. When he didn’t hear any movement behind him, he turned to see that Alfred was looking at him with brilliant curiosity.

“What?” He demanded and Alfred gave a soft smile that felt like it went straight to Arthur’s heart, causing it to flutter.

“You’re a surprising guy, Arthur” Alfred chuckled as he climbed on and Arthur got on after him, wrapping his arms around Alfred’s abdomen as he ignited the engine.

“You have no idea” Arthur thought as they sped away from the museum, the sun now set and gave way to night and it’s stars…

The black car’s occupants watched silently as their targets raced away. The driver reached into his inner jacket pocket and dialled his client’s number.

“Is he in your custody?” The voice cooly asked over the audible background chatter of the exhibition.

“Negative. He proved more resourceful than anticipated, the boy he was with to”. There was a pause on the line.

“I expected so. Prepare and hold a hit on this boy he was with. He may have yet to be some use in this” Ivan Braginsky commanded before he cut the line dead.

 


	2. First Night at Clover Bank

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

“When you can’t look on the bright side, I will sit with you in the dark”

* * *

Terra City, Club District, Cleaver Street.

There was never a silent night in the city. The night the masked vigilante, Columbia raced up the busy road on his motorbike was no different. The familiar noises of blaring car horns and pulsating electro music bounced off the high-rise skyscrapers to create a chorus of chaos with the ripping spats of his bike engine. Soft green coloured lights whizzed past Columbia as he weaved between the cars and slowed to a stop when the traffic light changed to red. The Clubs district was as loud as it always was.

“So, how was your date with Kirkland?” His coordinator’s voice crackled with static in his earpiece and Columbia rolled his aquamarine eyes.

“It wasn’t a date, Matt. I was on an assignment from Bonnefoy to get some extra credit and got paired up with Arthur. It’s no big deal.”

“Uh, you two went alone to the most high class event in the city. I wouldn’t call that nothing Alfred.” Matthew Williams countered from the living room of their shared downtown apartment in the Spades district, surrounded by his laptop set up consisting of three screens and four keyboards.

“Yeah, yeah okay whatever. God, where the hell is all the action tonight?” Alfred Jones groaned in a loud, obnoxiously bored voice and tilted his head back up to the starry sky. The lorry driver in the next lane glanced over to him, and Alfred saw him silently gasp in recognition with a pointing finger. It wasn’t hard to imagine what he saw. The up and coming hero Columbia, in his striped and starred dark navy suit and signature communication goggles, on his nightly patrol driving astride his red, white and blue motorbike. Alfred was used to people pointing and staring, and he still secretly got a thrill from it, but tonight the lack of criminal activity had left him in a somber mood. Another crackle of static cracked in his ear as Matthew open the channel to speak.

“There is a bank robbery in progress at the Clover Bank. The perpetuators are unknown but Britannia has been sighted there.” Matthew suggested and Alfred felt his day instantly turn around.

“Britannia’s there? Oh, I am beyond there.” Alfred quipped as Matthew turned on his goggles’ mini map and GPS to guide him there. Alfred’s booted foot pushed down hard on the ignition and tore forward away from the still gaping lorry driver, and drove left at the crossroad.

“I was really hoping you’d have grown out of this little crush of your’s.” Matthew sighed at his brother and his very obvious infatuation with the most mysterious vigilante in Terra. It had started long before Alfred had created ‘Columbia’, back when Britannia had been the only fighter of crime in the city. His standalone efforts to keep the streets safe so inspiring that Alfred resolved to use his own abnormally strong strength to create his own heroic identity: Columbia. Matthew had hoped that his admiration had stopped there, but it was soon painfully clear that Alfred’s quest for recognition from Britannia eluded to more romantic interests.

“It’s not just some school girl crush, Matt. All I need is a chance to show Britannia how awesome I am, and then he’ll definitely fall for me. And then we’ll be a crime fighting duo!” Alfred grinned, beaming with such over confidence that he didn’t seem capable of seeing the massive holes in his flimsy plan. From their small apartment, surrounded by his coordinator gear, Matthew smirked at the comic mental image of the aloof Britannia with huge hearts for eyes over his iconic gas mask. Still, he didn’t quite have the heart to rain on Alfred’s parade as he raced on the bank like an overexcited puppy.

* * *

 Terra City, Clubs District, Clover Bank

With the skilled ease of a practised professional, Britannia slid open the ceiling vent cover and silently dropped down to the polished floor; landing behind a fat marble column in the main hall where the bank’s vault was located. Remaining crouched, Britannia peeked out around his cover to observe the situation.

“Three men. Two in front of the vault with a drill, one by the west corridor” His mother’s calm perceptive voice instructed within his mind and Britannia mentally nodded in response. Right, take out the one by the west corridor first, then confuse and apprehend the other two. Balancing stealthily on the balls of his feet, Britannia darted from his column to behind an office desk to begin creeping towards his target. As he drew nearer, he could hear the two men by the vault chattering to each other.

“Damn, we gonna be proper loaded after this job!” One of them chuckled and Britannia heard dull thud when he was only one desk length away from the west corridor.

“You blonker! Remember, we only get a third of the dosh. Hardly anything in comparison what we’re stealing now” A different voice scolded, presumably the leader of this gang from the superiority he expressed. Britannia paused when he was a mere metre from the man guarding the west corridor, and lingered for his moment. The man carried a tommy gun with both hands and every five seconds he would glance over his shoulder back to the talking men. Britannia waited for the man to turn before he took a small coin from his pouch and threw it whistling over to the other side of the room. It cluttered soundly and the all of the men’s heads snapped around at the echoing ring of metal against stone. With perfect timing, Britannia lunged and pulled down the west guard behind the desk to lock him into a smothering chokehold. The man’s screams came out muffled as he frantically struggled against Britannia’s grip, his legs kicking out uselessly and squeaked against the smooth floor. His body slumped when he finally blacked out, and Britannia gently set it down beside him before peeking out from behind the desk. Excellent, things were going exactly as plann-.

Without any warning, both the main doors and skyline burst open in their frames; wooden chips and glass shards rained in as two new parties erupted into the previously still hall. At the double door, the newbie hero Columbia stood panting for breath as he scanned his chaotic surroundings, his arms raised ready to fight while from the ceiling, three black clad figures with masks zipped down from wires to land behind the two men beside the vault and slammed the butt of their guns into the back of their heads.

What the bloody hell was this?! Britannia silently cursed as he straightened out of his crouch, his mind whirring with the overwhelming barrage of new information; the movements, the sensations, smells and sounds all a blended mess that he couldn’t process in time.

“Stop the ones in black! They must not enter that vault!” His mother’s voiced jarred him back into reality and kicked his brain back into action. As he saw Columbia charge at one of the figures, Britannia hurtled over his desk and beelined for the figure on the left who was pulling open the freed security door. A shot rang out and had Britannia’s reactions not been as quick as they were, a bullet would of embedded itself into his foot. He twisted and was forced to throw himself into a roll to avoid the other follow up shot.

“Sniper on the roof.” His mother warned him, and Britannia grunted as he came up from his roll and kited around the edge to position himself below the sniper, efficiently cutting himself off from their line of sight. Over a distance, Columbia is wrestling with one of the black clad figures, seemingly beginning to overpower the figure with his rumoured super strength. The remaining figure with a womanly form was not watching Columbia but rather Britannia, an air of professionalism and challenge about them as though they secretly wanted Britannia to engage with them. This person knew what they were doing, Britannia thought to himself as he cautiously lowered himself into a defensive stance; his hand itching for the Dylan’s prototype light sabre that would have hung at his belt had his brother not taken it back to adjust.

“Britannia! I got your back bro!” Columbia’s shout rang and Britannia felt the urge to roll his eyes as the idiot threw down his unconscious opponent and ran over to charge at the woman’s back. The woman, very much aware of Columbia from his shout, spun and lashed out with a roundhouse kick. The strike slammed hard into Columbia’s side with such force that the hero was knocked sideways and slid a distance back hunched over wheezing. The idiot didn’t know what the hell he was doing, Britannia groaned and at the vault, the other figure who had ventured in reemerged with a steel briefcase in his hand.

“The package is secure!” He yelled to the woman before him and Britannia got the sense that there was a victorious smile on her face as she spun and ran back to the wires she descended from. The man passed her the case as she clipped herself in and Britannia felt his body instantly bolt after her. It didn’t matter what was being stolen, they were not getting away with it.

“Stop in the name of the law!” He heard Columbia shout hot on his heels, but the woman was already out of sight, and as Britannia leapt up, his feet shot out and he used Columbia as a spring board to launch himself higher. His gloved hand stretched out and clamped on the skylight ledge, a wheezed breath escaped him as he heaved himself up. The woman was now a distance away, leaping from concrete rooftop to rooftop towards an occupied helicopter landing pad; Britannia saw that the railed door was held open and inside, the sniper that had taken a shot at him was aiming their way.

“Uh- Okay, I’ll- I’ll just catch up with you later” Columbia’s fading voice echoed from below him though Britannia had already darted after the woman, the night’s air whistling and whipped back his suit’s hooded jacket and neck scarf. His feet drummed against the gravel roof of an apartment complex as Britannia reached out and enclosed his telepathic grip on the case. With a sharp mental yank, the case was ripped free from the woman’s grasp. The woman immediately skidded and pivoted to reclaim her treasure, unable to even react as Britannia jumped and straightened out midair horizontal to the roof. His kick connected and the woman was thrown back to fall onto the next lower rooftop. With a quick glance down to fallen case as he dashed past it, Britannia continued his running momentum and vaulted off the roof after her.

A deafening shot rang out, and Britannia screamed as his shoulder exploded in pain. His body instantly crumpled pain and all strength left him as he crashed down on the gravel hard on his right side; the air in his lungs forcibly expelled as his rag doll form bounced and ground to a stop. Paralytic, numb shock replaced the pain and the echoes of the shot reverberated in Britannia’s ear, his vision fuzzy and a nauseating blur of colours through his gas mask. As he lay there still with limbs of lead, his muddled mind was vaguely aware of noises of movement from the helicopter, the grainy scuffling of gravel as a number of footsteps drew closer.

A weak choke slipped from him as a muscular forearm snaked around his neck from behind and he felt himself be wrenched up into a kneeling position before a broad, tall man silhouetted by the helipad’s floodlights; the only detail Britannia was foggily able to make out was the obscurely piercing violet eyes that observed him as a scientist would observe a specimen.

“That was embarrassing little sister. I’m starting to think you’re incapable without my support” A female voice sneered, and a woman carrying a sniper rifle stepped out from behind the male’s silhouette; her shape curvy and busty under her kevlar. The forearm constricting Britannia’s windpipe sharply tightened and another choked sound escaped him.

“I wasn’t expecting him to be one of them” The woman at his back hissed back and the man that loomed over them stepped forward. With a quick motion, a hand reached out and knocked the hood off Britannia’s head to reveal a choppy thick globe of gold. An amused chuckle pealed the air.

“It has been a long” He softly remarked, and somewhere within his mess of a mind, Britannia recognised that that was the second time that night that phrase had been said to him; only he couldn’t quite put his finger on where. Both women looked to him suspiciously.

“What?” The one that held the rifle asked and Britannia felt his heart hammer inside his ribcage as the man continued to leer down at him.

“Sisters, what you see before you, is none other than the infamous Britannia Angel’. Britannia immediately felt the woman behind him tense up and hear her gasp faintly.

“Finally” Her breathless voice sighed in his ear and finally, Britannia’s brain registered just how much danger he was in right now; a fresh new wave of adrenaline surged through him.

“Subdue and restrain him. Administer a suitable long term sedative the first chance you have” The man ordered with clinical coldness, all earlier amusement gone. Both women nodded at their brother and Britannia’s hands flew to the constricting forearm when the woman began to apply increasing pressure. They clearly were aware of who he was, and they were intending to abduct him.

“The blood jar!,” His mother’s voice shrieked inside his mind and with difficulty, Britannia forced his hand to stop pulling at the forearm and reach down into his pocket to grip the small jam jar inside,“break it!”. No one even had a second to register what happened as Britannia crushed the jar, and blinked out of existence.

_CRACK!_

* * *

 Life was good for Seamus Kirkland. TV on, feet propped up, and a bowl of Lucky Charms on his lap. Ah yes, life could not be sweeter, Seamus thought to himself as he leant forward for the remote, and a hissing noise filled the open plan penthouse. It was coming from over head, and when Seamus looked up above the low table, he saw a large rune slowly burn itself on the ceiling. He stared at in confusion at first, and then in alarm when he remembered what it mean’t. Oh shit-

_CRACK!_

Britannia snapped into existence with an explosive thunderclap. He hovered, suspended mid-air for the briefest of moments, before gravity reclaimed him, and brought him down onto the glass table; the fragile glass smashing beneath the force into tiny pieces. The shattering of glass echoed throughout the penthouse, and eerie silence followed after. Seamus stared at Britannia in shock before panic slammed into him like a bus.

“Shite! Allistor! Dylan!” Seamus bellowed at the top of his lungs as he pushed off the party couch and knelt down. His stomach twisted into a knot when he saw that the vigilante’s right shoulder was soaked in blood. There was a hail of heavy footfall and Allistor and Dylan Kirkland emerged from downstairs. Their eyes, narrow and alarmed, widened in horror when they saw the sight before them.

“Fuckin’ hell! Dylan, prep the med room!” Allistor shouted without a glance at the brother, and crossed the room to also kneel at Britannia’s side; not caring of the tiny shards of glass littered on the cream carpeted floor and grimaced at bloody rips in his suit.

“What the fuck happened?!” He demanded from Seamus as he leant down, felt for a pulse, and found it weak.

“I don’t know! He just appeared out of nowhere!,” Seamus cried and watched as Allistor gently eased the gas mask off to reveal Arthur Kirkland’s unconscious face, “literally out of nowhere. One second he wasn’t here, the next, he was!”.

Allistor took charge and moved to lift Arthur bridal style, Seamus backing up to make way as Allistor rushed him to his room. The door was kicked open and Dylan looked over from laying out a pair of tweezers and bandages on a trolley as Allistor lay Arthur on the grey operation table. Seamus was in behind them and watched as Allistor began to hastily undress Arthur of the Britannia suit, exposing his bleeding shoulder and cuts.

“Tweezers,” Allistor barked to Dylan, whom immediately handed over the tool, “Seamus, wake him and find out what happened”. Seamus gave a shaky nod and knelt beside Arthur’s head to begin repetitively and insistently smacking his cheek.

“Arthur! Arthur! Arthur wake up!” He cried and choked back a cry of relief when he saw Arthur’s pale lids flutter and crack open. Working on his shoulder and back, Allistor carefully fished for the bullet, pulled it out and dropped it in a Dylan-provided dish before moving onto the piece of glass; the blood already beginning to crust around the bullet wound. Once all the pieces were out, he motioned for Dylan to pass him the antiseptic just as Arthur fully opened his eyes. The blond dazedly stared at Seamus’ worried face, confused at what he was seeing when the memories came back as a torrent. His pupils shrank and he made to buck like a frightened animal, but Allistor was quicker and pinned him down as he struggled.

“Arthur, Arthur it’s alright we’re here. You’re safe.” Seamus frantically reassured and smiled reassuringly when the startled look calmed when he realised where he was. All the tension left him as he relaxed against the hard table.

“Bloody hell that was close,” He sighed and hissed as Allistor tipped the antiseptic over his shoulder, “Argh- ah! Allistor! Warning, please!”.

“Oh ma apologises, I was a wee bit more concerned that ya were bleedin’ out!” Allistor sarcastically yelled, accepting the bandages from Dylan and began to swiftly bandage up his back and shoulders. Once he had finished, Allistor stepped back as Arthur sat up, gripping the table’s edge and not meeting any of their eyes.

“What happened Arthur?” Dylan asked dejectedly, exhaustion clear in his voice now that the hysteria had calmed. Arthur’s gaze remained firmly glued to the table in shame before he clicked his tongue at himself.

“I screwed up. Heard a robbery was in progress and tried to bite off more than I could chew. Got shot for it.” He gingerly confessed and all brothers shared quick looks of concern. Arthur was stubborn as he was prideful. For him to actually admit he was incapable, was extremely rare.

“But who shot at you? And how did you teleport into the living room?” Seamus asked and Arthur shook his head slightly.

“There was a sniper, she shot me while I was trying to stop another woman from stealing a brief case from the bank vault. There was a man with them that recognised me…” Arthur softly answered and winced when they all stood up straighter in alarm.

“What?!” Allistor demanded but Arthur hasn’t listening anymore, he muttering to himself while his eyes stared unseeingly at his knees.

“‘One of them’ they called me. Could they know about magic?”

“Arthur! Oi!,” Allistor barked with a snap of his fingers in front of his brother’s face, “Ya said they knew who ya were?!”.

“Yes, and from the way they said it, it sounded like they had been looking for me. I had to use mother’s blood jar to escape.” Arthur distantly explained, his thick brows furrowed deep in thought, not reading the effect his morbid words had on his audience. Seamus felt the blood drain from his face and at his side, he saw Allistor take in a deep, tense breath and go for the cigarette pack in his pocket. Holy hell, what was Arthur getting himself into? The blond in question stumblingly got himself got the table and Seamus darted forward to steady him.

“Dylan, would you help him to bed? And make sure he stays there?” Seamus asked with a meaningful, directed look and Dylan gave a short nod before moving around to support Arthur by his uninjured shoulder. The two shuffled out of the room with the door giving a soft click behind them and Seamus sighed heavily when he heard the sound of a lighter ignite and knew what he would see before he looked; and Allistor was doing so well…

“You shouldn’t smoke in an operating room, y’know.” He teased in a weak attempt to ease the tension as he turned to Allistor, only to be shot a dark look.

“Trust me, I need it.” Allistor growled around the cancer stick, taking a deep inhale and looked drained as he roughly ran his hand down his tired, grizzled face.

“What are we going to do?” Seamus asked seriously with a cross of his arms,and Allistor gave a shake of his head in despair.

“What can we do? Artie’s too stubborn for his own good to accept help an’ we all made a promise ta his ma. All we can is be his support and knit him back together when he gets hurt.”

“But- but we’re talking about Arthur’s life here Allistor, with Saxony we’d-”

“We made a promise, Seamus. One, I do not intend ta break.” Allistor snarled and Seamus was taken aback at how bitter of a bite there was to it. An awkward silence followed after until it was broken by Allistor’s drained sigh.

“We keep an eye on him. A very close eye.”


	3. The House Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has over 14 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading further, it's posted there under the same name.

Down the Rabbit

* * *

 Terra City, Spades District, University of Gaia.

Alfred hissed when someone roughly collided with his injured shoulder as he and his brother made their way through the student swarmed corridor; the painkillers he had taken that morning had done nothing to dull the pain from last night’s discoloured bruises. His brother shot him a sidelong concerned look.

‘You sure you shouldn’t of taken the day off?’ He quietly whispered and Alfred shook his head. He’d taken worse than this and still hauled his ass into lectures.

‘I’m fine, just bruising. ‘Sides I’m supposed to be meeting up with Arthur so we could go over the article together before he handed it in,’ Alfred returned and sighed when he saw Matthew raise an eyebrow. ‘What?’

‘You’re just getting really friendly with Arthur Kirkland, that’s all.’ Matthew muttered. Alfred narrowed his eyes when the lightbulb finally lit up.

‘You gotta problem with that Matt?’ He accused and there was an awkward pause as Matthew converted his meaning into words.

‘I dunno- I kind of got the impression that Arthur’s a loner, and that he liked it that way. You know what I mean?’. Alfred’s brows frowned to glare at his twin.

‘No. No I don’t know, because there’s no one who wants to be alone,’ Alfred’s voice lost it’s anger when he had an idea, ‘in fact, I’m gonna invite him to lunch after class’.

Matthew groaned as they turned the corridor and approached their lecture hall; trails of fellow classmates already streamed in to where Professor Bonnefoy waited for them. A girl with curly short hair that reminded Alfred of strawberries leant casually in the door frame, and when Alfred stepped to go pass, her arm shot out to bar his way.

‘Uh, can I help you?’ Alfred asked with a raised eyebrow and the girl looked him up and down with critical olive green eyes.

‘Laura Morgan, Editor in chief for the University of Gaia’s student magazine. I’m here to pick up.’ She stated and pointedly stared at Alfred’s bag on his back. Alfred’s brow continued it’s climb higher up his forehead.

‘Nope. Drawing a blank here.’ He confessed and Laura pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand.

‘The Mia Everson article? The one that was reassigned to Arthur Kirkland? I haven’t been able to find him all morning.’ She huffed and Alfred’s brows drew together. Arthur wasn’t in? Why? A chill ran down his spine when he remembered the gang that had attacked them last night. Had Arthur had actually gotten hurt and lied about it? Was that why he wasn’t in?

‘We were meant to meet up to go over the article before handing it in,’ Alfred admitted with a quick glance back to Matthew, who rolled his eyes back at him, ‘You haven’t heard anything?’

Laura shook her head and inside the lecture hall, the Professor called for the lesson to begin. Alfred bit down on his lip and chewed it nervously. Shit. He couldn’t just let this sit, he had to know if Arthur was alright and this Laura chick needed the article.

‘I’ll go check on him at his place, pick up the article and bring it back.’ Alfred announced and both Matthew and Laura looked at him with raised eyebrows.

‘That’s…what I like to hear,’ She slowly stringed together before she dropped her arm and moved out of the door frame, ‘I want it by lunch, got it?’.

Alfred gulped as she walked away, watching as her glossy curls bounced before he turned to his brother with an apologetic expression.  
‘Cover for me?’ He sheepishly asked. Matthew gave out a heavy sigh and reluctantly nodded.

‘I always do.’ He relented and Alfred flashed him a smile before he began to jog down the hall to the carpark, pouring on the speed.

* * *

 Spades Distinct, Baker Street, The Kirkland’s luxury Penthouse

Alfred gave out a low impressed whistle when he stepped into the lobby of Arthur’s home. He knew Arthur was rich, but this was just insane; everything with a spotless gleam to it, the shiny grey contrasted by the green leaves of lobby’s plants. He walked over to the front desk beside a steel lift, where a woman in her late thirties sat. Only, Alfred saw that she was far too well built to be an ordinary reception. Her eyes narrowed at Alfred as he approached.

‘Uh, hi? I’m Alfred Jones, I’m a classmate of Arthur’s.’ He announced, and the woman raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow at him.

‘Is he expecting you?’ She asked with a heavy Scottish accent.

‘I’m picking up an article that was he was supposed to submit today.’ Alfred answered back truthfully and after a long moment of silence, the woman motioned with her head to the lift’s doors.

‘Fair warning, laddie, he’s had a rough few nights.’

Alfred nodded his thanks as the doors pinged open and he stepped in, the lift’s wall panelled mirrors reflecting his image back three times over. The ride up was smooth and when the doors opened again, Alfred exited to face a set of double doors made of black wood. He made a hearty knock. But when no answer came, he tested the handle and found it unlocked. With a gulp, he pushed it open and walked inside.

His jaw hit the floor. It was wealth that only existed in businessmen’s wet dreams. The floor was open plan, rectangular in shape with the parallel walls running the complete length of it made of glass; the view of the city districts breathtaking under the sun’s rays. A kitchen was to the right of where Alfred stood and there were two staircases side by side in the back left corner. At the centre of it all, a colossal theatre tv screen was mounted on the wall, complete with a square horseshoe party sofa.

Alfred’s raised brows dropped when, bizarrely, he saw some kind of symbol burnt into the ceiling above the glass coffee table; like some rune he would see out of Lord of the Rings. On top of that, the whole place smelled strongly of cleaning products. What the—

‘Where the fuck is my fucking—,’ Arthur’s voice shouted as he came up from downstairs, completely topless save his shoulder and back that was bandaged. He froze when he saw Alfred. Time stopped for a heartbeat.

‘Alfred? W-what are you doing here?!’ The Brit demanded, but Alfred was too fixated on the bandages to properly register what he had said. That gang from the last night… If he ever saw them again.

‘You said that they hadn’t hurt you.’ He growled, and Arthur looked as though he had been slapped. His ears turned crimson.

‘I…I didn’t feel it at the time. The adrenaline wore off after you dropped me off.’

‘And then you went to the hospital?’

Arthur shook his head. ’No. Allistor’s a surgeon. He patched me up,’ He shrugged as though it were nothing, and then the signature scowl was back when he looked past Alfred to the open front door. ‘I’ll ask again. What are you doing here Alfred. What did you say to Reina to let you pass?’

Alfred blinked a few times before he understood what he was being asked. ‘I- um, you didn’t turn up this morning and Laura needs the article by today. So I, like, thought I could come and pick it up.’

Arthur looked him up and down. ‘I’ll go and get it then.’ He replied before he turned and climbed the stairs to the next floor. Left alone, Alfred slowly treaded forward to get a better view of the weird symbol on the ceiling.

‘Oi Artie, you gonna come down, or am I gonna have to—.’ A new voice called up from downstairs and Alfred turned around to see a newcomer, a young man maybe a few years older than him, with chestnut ginger hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail and a dusting of freckles. His eyes, though not quite the same shape, were identical to Arthur’s in their rich green colour, and they widened when they saw Alfred.

‘Oh ‘ello. Who’re you?’ He spoke in an Irish accent, and Alfred felt he’d have to acquire an accent himself to fit in.

‘Alfred Jones. Friend of Arthur’s.’ Alfred introduced himself, and silently sighed when the man gave him a once over. What was with everyone looking at him like he were some kind of specimen? The man offered his hand.

‘Seamus Kirkland. It’s nice to see that Arthur’s finally getting on with someone.’ Seamus smiled as they shook and Alfred felt the strength behind it’s firmness.

‘So, um, can I ask a question?’

‘Shoot.’

‘What’s with the symbol on the ceiling?’ Alfred asked with a pointed finger, and watched as Seamus’ eyes darted up to the spot. He licked his lips.

‘That’s—.’

‘Art,’ A deep Scottish voice rumbled and Alfred and Seamus looked over when it’s owner stomped down the stairs, Arthur following behind him; now with a black t-shirt over his bandages and a memory stick in his hand. ‘We’re trying something new.’

Alfred pretended to nod in understanding as Arthur stepped around the man, who Alfred assumed was this ‘Allistor’ that Arthur had mentioned before, and held out the stick.

‘Here. The article.’ Arthur said when Alfred took it and pocketed. He was uncomfortably aware of Allistor sizing him up, incredibly intimating when he was built like a house and looked like he could pop his head.

‘Uh, thanks. Laura will be happy to get this.’ He said with an awkward laugh while Seamus moved and sat on the sofa, turning on the screen with the remote.

‘Terra’s police department is encouraging citizens to come forward should they have any information regarding the recent string of neuroscientist disappearances. All and any help, is welcomed.

In other news, the premiere of Borne’s new opera, ‘Twilight of blood’ takes place tonight on the city’s own ’S.S Lovecraft’. Among the special guests scheduled to appear included Kyle Buff, Courtney Curry, Doctor Ivan Braginsky, and the esteemed Doctor Roderick Edelstein. Many more celebrity guests will be making their appearances this evening and we here will be there to cover every moment. Stay tuned!’ The chirpy anchorwoman saluted as she signed off and the channel cut to the adverts.

‘Hey that creepy doctor we met the other night is going,’ Alfred pointed out, but his smile fell when he saw Arthur’s face; unnaturally still and intense. His eyes. Alfred had never seen them so focused. ‘Uh, Arthur?’

‘I think it was time ya were leavin’.’ Allistor stated without negotiation, and Alfred gently reached out to touch Arthur’s elbow, causing him to jump as he had the other night.

‘Will I see you tomorrow?’ He asked hopefully and the razor edge to Arthur’s stare softened for a moment.

‘Yes. I think so.’ Arthur quietly agreed, and when Alfred beamed at him, he averted his gaze; his cheeks flushed.

‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning then.’ Alfred grinned before he gave a meek nod to Seamus and Allistor, and excused himself. After thumbing the button for the ground floor in the lift, his phone in his pocket began to buzz. It was Matthew.

Alfred answered the call. ‘Yo bro! What’s good?’

‘I’ll tell you what’s not good. Laura Morgan threatening to give me over to the archery club as target practice because you still haven’t got her article!’ His twin’s voice shrieked from over the line. Alfred had to suppress the urge to laugh aloud.

‘Chill dude. I’ve got the article, I’ll be back in ten, tops.’

‘Oh, you actually went to Kirkland’s place? Go on, spill. How rich are they actually?’

‘Beyond loaded. I swear that our crib could fit in it twenty times over inside it.’ Alfred sighed as he thought back on their downtown rented apartment, nearly big enough for the pair of them.

‘Hey, I actually have something else to tell you.’ Matthew’s voice dropped low to a secretive volume.

‘Hm?’

‘Tonight’s routine has changed. You know Oz?’

‘Yeah, the boomerang guy.’ Alfred recalled.

‘Yeah, well his coordinator, Shepherd was gotten in touch. Says they have information about the guys who robbed Clover bank last night.’

Alfred frowned as he turned around, and his reflection frowned back. This was quite the development. ‘What, and they’re willing to share that?’

‘Shepherd said that they suspect that the same people at Clover will try something today at the premiere of ‘Twilight of blood’. Such a stupid name.’ Matthew hissed as an after thought.

‘Wait, are you suggesting that they want our help?’ Alfred asked in disbelief and Matthew made a agreeable hum with his throat.

‘That’s what they said. Now get back here quick. Laura’s glaring at me again from across the room.’

Alfred smirked at the mental image as he ended the call and stepped out of the life when it’s doors opened, giving Reina (as Arthur had named her) a nod as he passed out the double glass doors onto the street. The lunch rush had the pavement crowded and Alfred had to weave through the flow to get to his bike.

* * *

 Back in the Kirkland’s penthouse…

‘So…he was nice.’ Seamus teased and Arthur shot him a glare at him before he went back to checking the Britannia suit’s utility belt; the suit and mask beside him on the sofa.

‘Seemed a bit of a gimp of me,’ Allistor grunted from the dining table, his laptop open in front of him, linked up to the TV screen so that it displayed what he saw: blueprints of the S.S Lovecraft cruise ship, the guest list for the night, and so on. ‘When Dylan gets back, he’ll hav’ ta create a fake ID that ya can use to get in as a guest.’

Arthur set down the belt and watched as Allistor pulled up an article on Doctor Edelstein’s arrival in Terra City from online science magazine. The headline read: ‘Edelstein arrives in Terra City to assist in upcoming experiments at Nova Labs.’

‘Everyone seems an idiot to us Allistor. But there is actually a brain in there, even if he prefers brawn.’ Arthur scoffed as his eyes skimmed through the article, noting that Doctor Braginsky would also be over seeing the experiment. Interesting…

‘Yeah, there’s no way he brought the story about the rune,’ Seamus quirked as he learnt over and stole the Britannia mask, juggling it casually.

‘Must think we’re right freaks.’

‘We are freaks, Seamus. How many people do you know do what we do?’ Arthur bitterly snapped. Seamus shrugged.

‘What you do, you mean. I haven’t been on the field in months. I feel like the bloody tin man, rusty as shite.’

‘I’ll be your coordinator for this one.’ Allistor stated and Arthur twisted his body around to scowl at him.

‘No. This is no different from the other nights. I don’t need your help.’ He protested. A line formed between Allistor’s thick brows and his irises burnt with greek fire as they locked onto Arthur’s.

‘Oh aye? Just like last night,’ The Scot spat and Arthur winced at the still fresh memory. ‘When are ya going to get it through that thick skull that ya can’t do this alone?’

Arthur stood up, and stood his ground. ‘We’ve been over this, Allistor. I am fine with all of you acting as support, but at the end of the day. Britannia is a solo act.’

‘But Arthur, at least let us coordinate for you! You can’t deny it’d make life a hell of a lot easier of easier for you.’ Seamus soundly countered, and Arthur shifted his stare onto him. The all anger there had evaporated so just stung hurt remained.

‘None of you could ever replace her.’ He choked on the verb, before shaking his head with a sniff.

‘Artie…’ Allistor started, but Arthur was already gone, climbing the stairs for the privacy he needed to mourn


	4. Columbia and Oz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has over 14 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading further, it's posted there under the same name.

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 Terra City, Diamond District, The Sterling Docks.

Columbia sat perched from his vantage point on a loading crane, and watched the S.S Lovecraft cruise ship as it’s celebrity passengers slowly boarded onto the deck; remotely controlled by Matthew, the lens of his goggles zoomed in and out while a mini target symbol zipped from face to face.

‘See him yet?’ Alfred asked softly and the comm channel crackled as it opened.

‘Nope. Looks like he’ll be a late boarder,’ Matthew sighed as his screens focused on a lovely couple as they climbed the catwalk onto the deck. ‘Need a refresher on the plan before Oz gets there?’

‘I got it. Bad guy organisation, ‘The Winter Syndicate’ is going to try to kidnap Doctor Roderick Edelstein. It’s on me and Oz to stop them and find out where they’re keeping the rest of the missing neuroscientists. Boom. Heroes save the day.’ Alfred enthused but Matthew made a noise of disapproval.

‘These people aren't street thugs brother. Their list of criminal activities is off the chart; multiple counts of theft, abduction, assassination, trafficking, and suspected political sabotage…I don’t know, Al. Maybe this is over our heads.’

Alfred shook his head. ‘No way, man. This is our time to run with the big dogs, stamp our name on the map. We do this, we find those scientists, we’ll be up there with Britannia.’ He allowed himself a private giggle at the thought. Him and Britannia, defenders of Terra. It was a dream, one that could come closer to being real if he pulled this off. Matthew indivisibly rolled his eyes at him.

‘Couldn’t of been a cheerleader. A nice, blonde cheerleader with a cute sister.’ Matthew huffed miserably. Alfred chuckled and straightened out of his crouch when he heard a noise behind him. The Australian vigilante ‘Oz’ stood a foot away, casually leaning against a metal crate. His attire was in some ways similar to Britannia’s; in that they both had the ‘rogue’ look down, as though they’d stepped out the apocalypse. He had a pair of boomerangs strapped to his back and another three on his belt. Most interestingly though, instead of a mask to conceal his identity, a thick black strip of paint had been sprayed across his eyes. It actually looked kinda badass, Alfred thought as regarded him.

‘G’day mate.’ Oz greeted with a nod, and Alfred smoothed out the ceases in his suit. Right. Time to make an impression.

‘Greetings, Oz.’ Alfred returned in his deepest voice, puffing out his chest as he did. There was a long pause of silence.

‘Oh my god.’ Matthew despaired in his ear just as Oz burst into hysterical laughter and strolled over. He clapped Alfred on the arm.

‘Shepherd hadn’t said you had a sense of humour. Ha! You and I should get on fine.’ Oz grinned, and Alfred dropped the airs and graces.

‘Ha, uh, I mean to,’ He stammered awkwardly before he mentally shook himself. Get it together man! ‘So, I’m a big fan of what you did last summer, in Hearts.’

‘Oh, that tin can? That was nothing.’ Oz chuckled and Alfred felt his jaw drop open in disbelief.

‘Nothing?! Dude! It was a giant robot, it was awesome!’ He cried, immediately cringing at how much of a fan girl he sounded. Oz humbly shrugged and then nodded to the cruise ship; the majority of passengers now boarded.

‘Still good for game sheila?’ Oz offered and Alfred stepped forward and crackled his knuckles, a wicked grin on his face.

‘Oh hell yeah I’m game.’

* * *

 

Terra City, Diamond District, The Sterling Docks.

Arthur’s eyes darted between faces as he waited in line to board the S.S Lovecraft, the impressive, sleek vessel lit up in golden spotlights. The crowd was the same kind as the night he and Alfred had visited the exhibition, the kind that had too much money to know what to do with. He wore a casual suit and held a metal briefcase that hid the Britannia mask and suit inside. In his other hand, a throwaway phone that had Allistor on the other end.

‘You should of taken something.’ Allistor scolded, and Arthur rolled his eyes at him.

‘I can’t exactly sneak in a bow and quiver with this level of security,’ He muttered as he continued to scan the crowd for Edelstein to no avail. Where was he? ‘I already look like a bloody wanker with this briefcase as it is.’

‘Just go in, get the answers you need, and get out.’ Allistor reminded and Arthur ended the call without answering. He hated to admit it, but Allistor was right. He couldn’t allow himself to get emotional with this. It was just business… He tucked the phone into his jacket pocket and exchanged it for his fake ID. When it came his time to board, the bouncer took the ID off him and compared it against the guest list. He narrowed his eyes when he looked Arthur up and down.

‘Augustus Funklen?’ He asked with a scoff and Arthur ground his teeth together. He was going to kill Dylan when he got back. Great Glitter.

‘Leider weiB ich den Namen.’ Unfortunate name I know, Arthur returned in fluent german and the bouncer burnt a bright red, stepping aside to allow Arthur passage. Arthur walked up the catwalk, and followed the signs that tracked the way to the theatre hall. The interior was plush and stylish, with the constant tink! of champagne glasses and sophisticated chatter in the air. A live band played played smooth jazz and the smell of food wafted around under the suffocating smell of tobacco and women’s perfume.

‘Time to disappear.’ His mother’s voice prompted and Arthur mentally nodded, tightening the grip on the case as he made his way towards the west corridor, which he knew led to a stairwell from memorising the ship’s layout. He was just fortunate that the ship had no cameras. Behind him, a voice announced for all the guests to take to their seats in the theatre.

‘Knowing Edelstein, he’ll likely be seated in one of the boxes. If I can get to the stage, I’ll be able to see which.’ Arthur thought to himself as he pushed himself up against a wall and waited for a guard to pass. Once he had, Arthur continued to make his way towards a secluded place where he could change.

* * *

 

Alfred heaved himself through the small porthole window, sucking in his gut to squeeze through. Off balance, he hit the floor hard with a groan while Oz slipped in after him.

‘That was easy.’ Oz remarked brightly and Alfred gave a huff as he clambered to his feet, clumsily stumbling into the cabin’s table where a game of cards had been set.

‘Speak for yourself. I was worried that I was gonna get stuck!’  
Oz laughed before he sank into a crouch and crept towards the door, pressing his ear against the dull metal.

‘All quiet. Shepherd, we good?’ He asked as he pressed his index finger to his finger piece. After a moment, he looked back to Alfred and gave him a thumbs up before opening the door and darting right. Alfred followed him down the dank corridor, the groans of pipes all round them.

‘So…is it true that you have super strength?,’ Oz whispered and Alfred shot him a questionable look. It didn’t seem the time to have a chat. ’The rumours say so but y’know.’

Alfred decided to humour him. ’Yeah, I do. Do you have any powers?’ He asked back and Oz shook his head.

‘Nah. I’m just really, really good at throwing things.’

There was another pause of silence as they eventually came to a sealed door that was labelled, ‘Main Ventilation Shaft.’

‘We can climb it to the upper levels and Acadia can guide us to the theatre.’ Alfred suggested, and Oz smiled his approval at the plan. After they’d got the sealed door open, they were met with a rush of upward flowing cold air that filled the hollow cylinder that opened to the night sky. Oz leant out with Alfred acting as his safety wire, and threw a boomerang up to engage it’s magnet. It activated and clamped onto the grated metal covering of the shaft. Seconds later, a wire fell down. Oz grabbed it and offered it to Alfred.

‘Take the lead?’

Alfred accepted and began to climb, not a challenge in his fit condition. As they climbed, Alfred decided to restart their question and answer session.

‘Hey, just curious, do you know Britannia?’ He asked with his voice echoing off the walls around them.

‘Britannia? Not really, why?’

‘Well, I remember that you and him had a kinda team up moment once.’

‘God give me strength.’ Matthew groaned in his ear, but Alfred ignored him as he heard Oz hum thoughtfully.

‘I’ll be honest mate. It was more of a ‘right place, right time’ deal. I was there, he was there, it just kinda happened,’

The green eyed monster was relieved, but Alfred was disappointed; he’d hoped to learn to approach him without relying on luck.

‘What’s your interest in him?’ Oz followed up.

‘Oh, you know, just…curiosity.’ Alfred airily returned and frowned when Matthew had a mini laughing fit. Below him, Oz chuckled.

‘Y’know, you wouldn’t be the only one. There are a lot of people who wanna know about him. Specially his powers. Can’t remember the last time I saw him use them though.’

‘He doesn’t use them much, huh?’ Alfred mused.

‘To right. Probably likes to keep them as an ace or something.’

‘If you’d stop fan-girling for a second, I’d tell you that you need to get into the vent on your left.’ Matthew interrupted, and Alfred looked around to the spy the vent he spoke of. He pointed at it.

‘We crawl through there. Ready?’ He asked and began to swing. Between them, they gained enough momentum to grab onto it’s ledge and haul themselves in. The space was large enough for the both of them to fit, though Alfred suspected it that wouldn’t be the case for long.

‘Okay, you’re on the same floor as the theatre. If you keep heading down the vent, it’ll branch out into several smaller ones. You’ll want to take the fourth one and slide down.’ Matthew’s voice popped with static and on hands and knees, Alfred followed his directions.

‘Are you a student?,’ Oz’s voice reverberated behind him and Alfred’s hand slipped in shock, creating a loud bang. ‘Guess so.’

Aw crap. ‘That obvious?’ He asked with a sigh as he slid down the slop Matthew had told him of.

‘You gave the vibe, and I scored lucky,’ Oz chuckled, ‘well, that, and that you don’t seem to have that much experience in all this.’

‘So stealth isn’t my strong point. Doesn’t mean I’m terrible at hero work.’ Alfred defended himself sourly with a pout.

‘Never said that. Hell, I’ve seen you punch a guy through a wall.’ Oz chuckled.

‘And you still asked before if I had super strength?’ Alfred smirked back to him and Oz shrugged.

‘Confirmation is always nice.’ He smiled, a smile that vanished when an explosion of gunfire splintered throughout the ship. The heroes stared at each other.

‘Acadia…’

‘Shepherd…’ Alfred and Oz said slowly in unison and jumped when another round went off.

‘Fuck! Acadia, what’s happening?’ Alfred cried as he began to crawl as fast as he could, no longer caring now much noise he made. Oz was close on his heels.

‘There’s no freaking cameras on this tub. The only thing I’ve got is the security radio frequency.’ Matthew came immediately and Alfred wanted to tear his hair out.

‘And?!’ Alfred hissed.

‘It’s saying that a group’s hijacked the ship. A lead gunner man is demanding that Doctor Edelstein surrender himself or he’s going to start shooting.’

‘That’s not all,’ A new voice said over the comm, who Alfred assumed was Shepherd. ‘the man’s threatened to set off a bomb he’s planted if he’s met with any resistance.’

‘Could the gunner be with the Syndicate?’ Alfred wondered and a hard line set itself onto Oz’s face.

‘Doesn’t matter who he’s with if he starts killing people. We’re gonna have to split. You take the bomb, I’ll go after the blighter.’

‘Are you sure? We don’t know how many men there are!’ Alfred cried as Oz shuffled backwards to angle himself towards a vent cover. After a check to see if the coast was clear, he punched the grating cover off with a ear grating clang!

‘Then I’ll find out and keep you posted.’ Oz snapped as he landed on the corridor’s carpet, Alfred pulled himself out after.

‘But—’

‘But nothing! Find that bomb!’ The Australian shouted as he took off, turning left at the end of corridor T junction. Alfred stared after, his brain a hectic, clumped mess.

‘Alfred c’mon! The Engine room first! It’s most likely place he’d place it to bring the ship down.’ Matthew urged and Alfred furiously shook his head to clear it. Matt was right, he had to keep it together. He broke into a jog in the opposite direction Oz had gone in, a jog that escalated into a run. He sprinted through the maze of corridors when, quite suddenly, very abruptly, he collided with another at full force. Alfred gasped as his breath was forced from his lungs, and he stumbled back dazed.

‘Bloody hell!’

Alfred’s stomach fell into his feet as he recognised that voice. Oh no. It couldn’t be happening. Only, it was. Blue orbs met green in silent despair as Columbia stared back at Arthur Kirkland.


	5. Columbia and Britannia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has over 14 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading ahead, it's posted there under the same name.

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 Terra City, Diamond District, the S.S Lovecraft.

‘No. Fucking. Way.’ Matthew vocalised Alfred’s thoughts as they stared down at Arthur Kirkland on sprawled on his back. The Brit was flush in the face, his suit was crumpled, and in his hand he gripped a metal briefcase. Alfred’s mind was blank. What had he done to deserve this? Of all the possible people, why did Arthur have to be here on this exact night in the most dangerous place in Terra. Arthur opened his eyes and his frown disappeared with shock as he stared back at Columbia.

Alfred opened his mouth to ask, to demand why Arthur was here, when the shouts of men snapped his head to the end of the corridor. They’d be on them in moments. Alfred’s body moved before his mind did as he reached down and hauled Arthur up, marching over to the nearest door to throw him into the broom cupboard. He had already stepped in after him when he realised just how little space there actually was.

The darkness of the narrow room seemed to heighten every sense. Alfred was acutely aware of the rise and fall of Arthur’s chest pressed against his as he held his own breath. Outside, he heard footfall thunder closer, and closer, before they pasted them and continued down the corridor to eventually disappear. Alfred left out a shaky gasp and looked down at Arthur; Matthew had turned on his night vision so that he could see the Brit’s pale face contorted in discomfort.

‘Are you hurt?,’ Alfred whispered and Arthur shook his head.

‘Fine.’ He quietly returned, and tried to increase the near non-existent distance between them; an impossible task given the room Alfred had shoved them into. Alfred privately sighed with relief and leant backwards to peer through the slits of the wooden door. The coast was clear, but the ship was too dangerous to be walking the corridors. He needed Arthur safe and out of the way.

‘Okay, good. Good. Listen, the ship’s been hijacked. They’re mainly in the theatre and they’ve got guns and a bomb somewhere on the ship. Oz and I are dealing with it, but I’m going to need you to stay here where it’s safe. You got that?’ Alfred explained without breath, and waited for Arthur’s answer as his eyes flickered from either side as he processed the information.

‘I understand.’ Arthur finally agreed, shuffling back as Alfred gave him a grateful nod and opened the door to step out.

He paused when he was about to close the door again. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll come back for you once it’s safe again.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll come back for you once it’s safe again.’ Columbia promised, and Arthur mirrored his earlier nod. It seemed to appease as the hero as he flashed his signature sunny smile before he closed the door and set off down the way the men who had chased him had. Arthur stood still for a full minute and reviewed this new information.

A group of gunners had hijacked the ship. They had a bomb stashed somewhere, Oz and Columbia were aboard, and he had to track down Edelstein between it all. The evening was going to be eventful than he had anticipated. With a click, the silver latches on the briefcase opened. Arthur looked at Britannia’s gas mask that sat on top of his folded suit, and sighed. He had a long overdue appointment with the good doctor.

‘You’re just going to leave him in there?’ Matthew cried as Alfred ran away from the corridor he had left Arthur in, skidding right to bound up a staircase. The sign above it labelling it as the way to the engine room.

‘What else could I do? Drag him around the ship with me? Ask if he can diffuse a bomb?’

‘Given the way you’ve raved about him, I wouldn’t be surprised.’ Matthew countered bitterly.

A gunshot resounded, and Alfred’s stomach coiled another knot. ‘What’s happening?’ He asked.

Matthew made a troubled sound. ‘Oz is fighting the lead gunman on the stage. It’s- it’s not good Al. He’s got hostages, five of them and one of them is Doctor Edelstein with a noose around his neck!’

‘Motherfu-.’ Alfred hissed as he skidded to a halt and twisted his body to go back the way he had came.

‘No! Al, the bomb! Oz is handling himself fine, but he can’t land any real hits with that bomb threatening to sink the ship.’ Matthew blurted with a crackle of static, and Alfred internally fought against the notion, before accepting it with a nod, and began to run again.

* * *

 Britannia’s boots padded muffled down the plush halls, and slipped under the velvet rope that sectioned off the theatre’s royal box. The golden door hardly creaked as he pushed it open and peeked inside to find the box empty. Staying low, he blended as a shadow to the ledge, and swore bitterly when he raised his head to look over it.

Reflected in the glossy, waxed boards, the vigilante Oz grappled and brawled with a man all in black; the centrepiece of a scene garnished by four bound celebrities on their knees. However, none of them held Britannia’s attention as Doctor Edelstein did, a rope noose around his reddened neck, and a unbearably fragile stool the only thing that kept it from snapping.

At centre stage, Oz lunged for the assailant and cried out as he was in turn grabbed and thrown off the stage into the front row of the terrified audience. The man in black laughed as he strolled over to Edelstein.

‘Now suffer as she did!’ He crackled as he swept out the stool from underneath the doctor. The line went taunt and the Edelstein dropped with a guttural choke.

Adrenaline shot through Britannia like a splintered bullet, and his brain shifted into automatic mode as a shiver ran down his spine. Moving with the speed of a striking snake, he grabbed the gun that was aimed at the back of his head and ripped it out of the silent intruder’s hand, reaching up to grab and slam his head hard against the marble ledge. In the same motion, his panic giving him speed, Britannia spun out of his crouch, wildly aimed and pulled the trigger. The shot’s bang explode throughout the hall, and the bullet whistled as it cleaved through the rope. Edelstein dropped purple faced to the floor, gasping for air.

All eyes locked onto Britannia even as he tucked the pistol into his belt and leapt off the box’s ledge to grip and slide down the stage’s colossal curtains. When his boots hit the ground, the man in black spat.

‘Britannia,’ He growled, ‘of course you’re here to.’

‘Release the hostages. No one dies tonight.’ Britannia stated as his eyes darted behind his mask for any gunmen hidden in the stage’s wings and the crowd. He saw a few laying unconscious with blunt blows at the back of their heads. Oz and those sticks of his no doubt.

The man in black spat again and pointed at Edelstein, who was still gulping for breath on his back; his face calmed to a ruddy red now, with spittle drooling from his swollen lips. ‘If you knew how many lives he has ruined. If you knew what suffering he has created in the name of ‘science’, you wouldn’t be defending him.’  
Britannia drew his pistol and aimed it at the man’s chest. He saw what this was about. The poor sod was out for revenge, and he was willing to sink the entire ship to get it. It was too bad that Edelstein was Arthur’s strongest lead to the missing scientists, else he might of been able to step aside with a clear conscious.

‘I know too well of that man’s crimes. But regardless,’ He carefully returned, steadying his hand, ‘I will not allow you to kill him.’

‘Then I’ll cut you down first.’ The man hissed and charged. Britannia pulled the trigger, to have the gun immediately jam, and barely had enough time to curse his sloppiness for not checking the bullets before he was forced to sidestep out of range as the man unsheathed a switchable and slashed at him. His gloved hand shot out and Britannia caught the follow up swing, twisting the man’s wrist to send the knife clattering to the floor. The man grunted and dug his knee into Britannia’s exposed side to knock the breath out of him. The Brit stumbled back and failed to avoid the next punch directed at his head; lights flashed dangerously behind his eyes as he backed away disoriented.

The villain sighed as he bowed to pick up the fallen knife. ‘It’s a shame. I respect you Britannia, I respect what you’ve done for this city. You saved my friend from his addiction by shutting down his drug dealer’s network. I’m grateful for that, tells me you’re not just in it for the kicks, that you’re a good man,’ He brandished the knife before pointing it at Edelstein. ‘Which is why I can’t understand why. This piece of scum promised that he could cure my sister, and what did he do? He fucking lobotomised her! He took away the only family I ever had.’

Britannia’s stomach twisted. ‘You aren’t the only one.’ The words escaped him before reason could stop them, and from a distance, the doctor raised his head to look at him.

‘Britannia please—’

‘Shut up,’ Arthur growled with fermented venom, the doctor’s voice giving rise to memories that he had long buried. ‘After him, you’re next.’

The man in black’s eyes darted between them. ‘I’m sensing some history between the two of you. Should I leave you two alone?,’ He smirked before he took a step closer to Britannia. ‘Britannia, you and I are victims here. You should be helping me enact justice, not stopping it.’

‘I…will not repeat myself again,’ Britannia returned with difficulty, the temptation so dangerously alluring. Interrogate Edelstein and then allow this man to have his merry way with him. Deliver the lethal justice he had sworn himself off, because by god did he deserve it. He deserved everything the man in black had planned for him. He deserved it all and Britannia would be blameless for it…Except, he would, because guiding a hand to pull the trigger was no different than pulling it yourself. ‘No one dies tonight.’

At that point, the sound of broken glass filled the hall as the light box’s screen shattered, plunging the space into stunned silence.

* * *

 Ten minutes before

Alfred slowed his pace from sprinting to walking as he heard voices ring out from around the corner of the corridor. He sank low into a crouch as he approached the ajar steel door, and rolled his head around to spy through the gap. The small square room was that of some sort of control room, with an impressive panel of nobs and buttons that on which, two woman perched. Both had silvery blonde hair and wore black khaki, and while one held a rifle aimed at something beyond Alfred’s sight, the other made Alfred gasp in recognition. He had seen her before, the night before at break in at the Clover bank. She was the one that Britannia had chased to the rooftops.  
As the two watched through a glass window (that led Alfred to realise that they were in the theatre’s light box) down the stage, both ship staff and henchmen lay on the ground unconscious or wounded. The woman with the rifle pulled back from staring down the scope to look at the other.

‘This is pathetic. I could take the shot now and we could walk out of here with Britannia and be done with it all.’ She hissed.

‘Why sister, could it be that you are actually losing your patience?,’ The woman from Clover bank replied with a scoff and nudged her ‘sister’ with her elbow. ‘Relax, it’s just until she shows. With both Britannia and Edelstein, it’s bound to happen soon, then we’ll have them both.’

Alfred’s brows drew together. Britannia was here? Who were these women that robbed Clover, were they the Winter Syndicate? and what did they want with this person that they referred to as ‘She’ and Britannia? Why would this ‘She’ come for Britannia and Doctor Edelstein only? He leant in closer when one of the men inside barked out a series of wet coughs.

‘Fuckin’ bitches,’ He spat out with a mouthful of blood, ‘we’ll sink this god damn ship to the bottom of the ocean before that happens!’

The sniper scoffed. ‘If you are referring to that pathetic excuse of a bomb, we’ve already disarmed it and thrown it overboard.’ She said with a smirk, a smirk that vanished when she saw all-too-late the man reach for his radio.

‘The bomb has been found! All men charge the engine room! Bring this ship down!’ He shrieked into it before the woman from Clover bank unholstered a pistol and put a bullet between his eyes. The shot’s echo hadn’t even faded when she looked back to the sniper.

‘Go! I will wait alone.’ The sniper shouted and the woman from Clover bank gave a single nod. Alfred had had to throw himself behind the door before it could be flung open and his position discovered. He made it just when the woman burst out into the corridor and took off down the corridor Alfred had been heading.

‘You can take one of them, right?’ Matthew’s voice whispered in his ear, and Alfred gave a silent nod as his response. Time to run with the big dogs.

With a bang, Alfred kicked in the door with full force, and launched it at the sniper on the panel. The woman didn’t have time to react as a solid metal door smashed into her, it’s unstoppable momentum carrying her with it through the glass window. Alfred stood there, panting heavily as he strode past the control panel to look down at the damage done. Luckily, the door hadn’t landed on her, and when Matthew zoomed his goggles, Alfred saw that her chest still rose and fell as she lay with awkwardly bent limbs on top of broken glass fragments.

‘Jeez Al, take no prisoners much?’

‘No, that’s just how the big dogs bark,’ Alfred justified before he turned his sights upwards and saw on the stage that all eyes were on him, including Britannia and Oz on the stage. ‘Let’s make an entrance.’ He chuckled and backed up a distance to use as a run up.

Britannia stared with dumbfounded astonishment as he watched Columbia make an impossible leap from the light box to the stage, landing in the stereotypical ‘superhero landing’ pose as the force of it cracked the smooth wood. The striped and starred hero straightened up and winked at Britannia as he readied himself into a stance. From the front row, Oz got to his feet and climbed onto the stage to stand beside Columbia.

‘Hey. How you doin’ gorgeous? Your hero was arrived.’ The prick quipped and Britannia’s urge to punch him was interrupted when he realised that in the midst of all the chaos, Edelstein had slithered away.

‘No.’ Britannia hissed as he spun around to catch sight of the doctor fleeing through the green lit fire exit door. He was not getting away.

‘Britannia, wait!’ Columbia yelled after to him as he took off as Edelstein, but Britannia was too focused on regaining lost ground, already through the door before he could glance back when another cry called out.

‘Britannia, wait!’ Alfred yelled a second late as Britannia raced for the fire exit door in the wings. He tensed to shoot after him when Oz cried out in pain and dropped. Alfred whipped around and froze. Behind Oz, stood a figure in white. Unmistakably female with her tall, slender form, she wore a white face mask with silver markings above the brow that resembled a crown and her white-blonde hair was knotted into a bun. Her suit looked as though it were made of bleached leather and bullet proof in places. On her thigh was a gun holster and on her hips, a utility belt that looked like it held an armoury. The two stared at each other for a beat, before the woman severed the connection and looked past him. Her gaze fixed onto the fire exit that Britannia and Edelstein had escaped through.

‘She’s ‘She’!’ Alfred mentally exclaimed and started when she shifted to run past him. Britannia, he couldn’t let her or those women from before get to him!

However, Alfred’s optimism was short lived as when he moved to intercept, a swift kick to his face sent him spinning to the ground. His jaw throbbing, Alfred groaned as he lifted himself up and looked over to where Oz was. He wanted to go after Britannia but…

‘Go!,’ Oz urged over to him as he clutched his side; when he lifted his hand away, it was bloody. ‘Go! Don’t let our lead get away!’

Alfred bit his lip conflicted, but nodded and turned heel to chase after the woman in white, praying that he would find Britannia before she did.

* * *

 Past the bar and out onto the main deck, Britannia ran after Edelstein at full sprint, ever closing the distance between them until he brought the chase to a violent finish with a final burst of speed and tackled the man. Both men grunted as they hit the deck and in a flash, Britannia was spinning Edelstein onto his back and straddled his chest, one hand pinned his neck down, the other Edelstein’s wrist and his heel, the other wrist. They stared at each other while their chests fell and rose heavily, out of breath. Britannia’s was the first to slow to a rate that he could speak at.

‘It’s been a long time, Edelstein.’ Britannia panted and tightened his grip, quite aware of the satisfied, slightly crazed cat smile that pulled at his lips; enjoying this more than he should for it to be ‘just business’. Edelstein gave a sputter and a spasm shook him as he tried to resist.

‘How fitting, that you took up your mother’s mantle. She’d be so proud.’ He weakly choked with a wicked glint in his eye, and Arthur’s vision tinted red as he gripped Edelstein neck harder and slammed it back against the wood.

‘You heard me back there, Doctor. I came for answers, so talk. Why are you in this city? You didn’t keep your arrival here particularly low key. Suspicious, don’t you think, considering the recent string of neuroscientist kidnappings?’

A condescending leer slipped onto Edelstein’s face despite it slowly turning a shade of pink and Britannia had to battle with himself not to slap it off. ‘Come now boy, I know there is a brain behind that mask. Use it. Why would I come here, and put myself at such risk?’

There was a long moment of silence as Britannia thought. ‘You want the kidnapper’s attention. You know who they are, and you’re their bait…Which means the Syndicate is also in the city.’ He strung together, and Edelstein’s smile grew.

‘Yes. In fact, you’re already encountered them.’ Edelstein prompted and Britannia kicked himself for not putting it together earlier.

‘Clover bank,’ He hissed and shook the doctor. ‘What did they steal from the vault?’

‘My research.’ The doctor answered, and Britannia frowned beneath the mask.

‘Why keep it in the vault?’

‘I needed a safe place to stash it. They were after it.’

Britannia grabbed him with both hands by the collar and yanked him up. ‘Who?! The kidnapper? Why are they targeting neuroscientists? Tell me!’

‘Britannia look out!’ Columbia’s voice cried out and Britannia felt what must have been a small bus slam into him. Air was forced out of his lungs, leaving him winded and dazed. When his brain rightened itself again, he finally processed that Columbia was on top of him on hands and knees, their bodies gasping in time, inches from each other. Anger came as a fast ally.

‘Get off me, you git!’ He snapped as he pushed the all american hero off him with a hard shove and scrambled to his feet, ready to give Columbia what for, when he saw that something else seized his attention. Britannia followed his stare.

Beside Edelstein (who now had a sleep dart sticking out of his chest, exactly where Britannia had been seconds ago) was a woman in white, regal and flawless. The white woman, this white queen, lowered the barrel of her tranquilliser minimally as Britannia stared back at her. Something intangible passed between them, something different…Green eyes widened when he realised what it was he sensed. The presence of another who was Lucid, an ability user like himself.

‘You have to run.’ He quietly warned Columbia with a pointed look his way. With nervous glances between him and the woman, Columbia stepped closer; every muscle tensed.

‘Like hell I’m leaving you B,’ Columbia hissed back, ‘I listened in on two Winter Syndicate women, the same we saw at Clover bank that night. They were waiting to kidnap you and that woman over there. They said that she would come for you and Doctor Edelstein.’

‘What?!’ Britannia blurted and snapped his head around to the woman. She- she was here for him? and Edelstein? Why? Why would she—. Britannia’s whole body locked up as the final puzzle piece slid into place. The Winter Syndicate, Columbia had said they were here. ‘You’re the bait’. ‘They were after it.’.

Oh no.

‘She’s the one kidnapping the neuroscientists.’ He breathed the words and Columbia’s stared at him with raised brows.

‘What?’

‘She’s the reason for the robbery at Clover bank. And she’s the reason why the Syndicate is here now,’ Britannia explained and furrowed his brow. ‘Question is: why? Why is she gathering neuroscientists?’

‘Dude, you kinda lost me there. Explain to me later but right now, let’s book her!’ Columbia exclaimed and Britannia grabbed his arm and yanked him back before he could dive forward. It was the first time they had touched on his terms.

‘Don’t. She’s lucid. She has powers like me,’ He warned and ground his teeth together when Columbia didn’t take this as the lethal information it was; the idiot instead wearing a irritatingly happy grin for whatever reason. ‘Listen to me. I’ll hold her off while you grab Edelstein and run.’

Columbia shook his head and lowered himself into a boxing stance. ‘Not a chance I’m letting you face a psychic psycho alone.’

Britannia’s blood boiled and he leant in threateningly. ‘I don’t think you’ve ever seen two people who are Lucid fight before, Columbia. It gets messy. Fast. With a lot of collateral. I need you to take Doctor Edelstein out of the firing line.’

The hero opened his mouth to speak when he tilted his head to listen to the voice in his ear, while Britannia listened to a voice of his own.

‘Keep your distance with this one. Use long range attacks. Short, quick and powerful bursts are the key here.’ His mother advised and Britannia was about to throw himself into battle when a whining noise disturbed his focus.

‘Good news B! We’ve got backup,’ Columbia grinned and Britannia looked around as SWAT helicopters whipped towards them, their blinding spotlights shining on them.

‘ALL OF YOU DOWN ON THE GROUND! DROP YOUR WEAPONS WITH YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!’ A male voice crackled and boomed amplified from a megaphone, the chopper’s closing in on the ship.

‘Oh bloody brilliant.’ Britannia hissed under his breath, before he threw himself out of the flight path of a tranquilliser dart. The white woman was moving now, fast. She was a blur as she tore towards Britannia, the barrel aimed for the small exposed space of flesh beneath his mask. Britannia felt the world slow as he sidestepped the darts, a quick smirk flashed on his face when the gun jammed after the fifth bullet was fired. Someone hasn’t their bullets either. His smirk was gone as quickly as it had came when she pulled a high voltage taser from her belt. Shit.

‘Get Edelstein!’ He screamed as he threw himself into a rough handspring out of her way, landing on his feet near the edge of the rocking ship. He came up from the tumble and the woman shot out her open palm to him. An indivisible wave slammed into Britannia and his spine felt like it broke when it the banged against the metal railing. All his limbs shook from effort as he tried to stand, but when he looked up, Columbia’s body was already flying on a collision course. To late to roll out of the way, the impact sent them both over the ledge to plummet into the freezing back sea.

* * *

 Frankly, it was a miracle that Britannia didn’t pass out from the impact when his body broke the water’s surface with a crash. Some instinct had taken control, pushed down the all consuming pain, the numbing cold into the back corner of his mind, and made him crush Columbia’s form against his while his bloodless lips moved to recite a spell; later, he wouldn’t even be able to recall what the spell was. He must of briefly lost consciousness as the next thing his adrenaline dosed brain became aware of was that he and Columbia were laying on the shore, near twenty miles from the spot they had fallen from.

Britannia just lay there for one long, exhausted second, before he remembered the danger in the numbness of his body. Hypothermia.

With a strained groan, he rolled onto his side and felt Columbia’s neck; the pulse definitely there, and despite the wet, blue skin, it was strong. Good. Britannia forced his torso to roll again so that it was partly on top of Columbia’s, his arms and legs too numb to respond.

‘Halitus ignis.’ The words came out as a cracked pant and Britannia gave a long groan as his magic boiled within his veins, feeling like fire warming him from the inside out. Slowly, the feeling in his limbs gradually returning to him, Britannia fully climbed on top of Columbia to create as much contact as possible between them. Bloody hell, if he woke up now…

He pressed his warm hands against Columbia’s freezing cheeks, and privately noted that he actually had good cheekbones and a handsome jawline whilst he massaged the warmth back into them, encouraging the blood to return. When the hero’s breath changed from it’s slow, deep rhythm, Britannia stood up dizzyingly fast and backed away a distance. He dismissed the spell and positioned himself so that it was though as he had been watching the SWAT force swarm ship the entire time.

‘Urgh, what happened?’ Columbia mumbled as he sat up and winced at the wave of pain that assaulted his whole body. Britannia looked over to him with his arms crossed, immensely grateful he hadn’t been electrocuted with the taser. He imagined that if he had, they’d have never made it out of the sea.

‘We fell into the sea. I got us out.’ Britannia returned shortly and watched Columbia groan as he got to his feet.

‘Aw man. My body feels like it got bitch slapped by a nailed- Fuck! Oz! Arthur! That woman!’ He cried in remembrance, and Britannia indivisibly frowned. When had he ever told Columbia his name? Had it slipped from his tongue without him realising? Shit, he was usually so careful with that.

‘I’m sure your friends are safe. As for the woman though…I hope the TPD got to Edelstein before she did,’ He replied and turned to walk away. His movement was abruptly stopped by Columbia’s vice grip around his arm. ‘Let go of me.’ He hissed.

‘Wait Britannia. We need to talk.’ Columbia stated as Britannia tried to free his arm to now avail. The rumours were true, Columbia did indeed possess some degree of super strength (Then again, that should of been obvious when he ripped a steel door off it’s hinges and threw it through the light box’s window).

‘About what, exactly?’

‘About what happened on the ship. I’ve told you what I know, now I need you to do the same.’

‘I don’t have to tell you anything. It’s none of your bloody business.’ Britannia curtly retorted and Columbia’s grip tightened.

‘What the hell Britannia. You expect me to just walk away from this? You said that she is the one behind the kidnappings. I want to help rescue those scientists as much as you do. But I gotta understand what this all has to do with the Winter Syndicate and you. Why are they both after you?’

Britannia gave a scoff and looked away. ‘As if I’d just tell you.’

‘You can trust me, B. I trust you.’

‘You don’t even know me.’ Britannia growled back with the ferocity of a lion and the two glared at each other. A minute pasted of mute, smothered anger.

‘I’m not letting go until you tell me.’ Columbia finally said, and Britannia saw that he would stay true to his word. There was no getting through that brand of stubbornness.

‘Fine,’ He sighed, ‘the Winter Syndicate and I have history. Bad history. Edelstein is one of their scientists and they wanted to use him as bait to draw me in, and apparently this other woman to. Whom of which, I know nothing about save that she is behind the neuroscientist kidnappings and that she was after the research Edelstein locked away in the Clover bank vault. I have no idea why she would be after me.’ He finished with a huff and tore his arm out of Columbia’s slackened grip. The hero stared at him.

‘There’s more than that.’ Columbia disagreed and Britannia scowled at him, crossing his arms.

‘Of course there is, but that’s all you’ll ever bloody get.’ He snapped back, shoving past him to leave.

‘What was Edelstein researching? Surely whatever it was could be a clue to what that woman wants with the other scientists if he tried to keep it out of her hands?’ Columbia called loudly after him, and Britannia stopped when he realised that he was right. Edelstein hid that research to keep it out of the kidnapper’s hands. It had to be important.

‘You’re right. The contents of that case is my next lead.’ Britannia agreed and heard footsteps in the sand crunch closer to him.

‘Britannia. Please. I’m involved in this now, I can help you .You don’t have to do this alone.’

Arthur stopped, and briefly considered the words before the hardened persona of Britannia took command again.

‘Yes. I do.’ Britannia snapped and walked away, leaving the hero alone on the grey sands, the gentle sway and crash of the waves the only things to comfort him.


	6. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has over 14 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading ahead, it's posted there under the same name.
> 
> What to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or what to ask me a question?  
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 Terra City, Clover District, Zwingli’s private Surgery

Doctor Ivan Braginsky sat with his head bowed beside his sister’s bedside, listening to the quiet, rhythmic beats from the heart monitor. Natasha knelt next to him in the white tiled room, a wet trail of tears ran down her cheek as she gripped Maria’s limp hand in her own.

‘Who did this?’ Ivan asked, his voice soft with disbelief. When the no answer, he shouted the question again. ‘Who did this!’

‘Columbia was sighted emerging from the box after she fell. We can only assume that he is to blame.’ One of Ivan’s subordinates reported from over by the door, and Ivan’s jaw squared. Columbia, the young upstart that chased around after Britannia, broke both of Maria’s legs and two of her ribs. By throwing a fucking metal door at her.

‘I’ll kill him,’ Natasha snarled and she straightened up out of her kneel. ‘I’ll hunt him down myself and tear him limb from limb!’

‘Miss, I’m afraid we simply do not—’

‘Shut up! I don’t fucking care! That little shit is dead!’ She continued to scream in a rage.

Ivan’s brows furrowed as his patience ran out, and he stood up, his form towered over anyone. ‘Enough, Natasha. Losing your temper will do nothing for sister Maria,’ He commanded and a hush fell over the room as he moved away from the steel bed to the window; the dawn’s sun just peeking over the horizon, casting long red streaks into the sky.

‘With Edelstein gone and agent Germania and his team arriving in the city, Britannia is now our only certified connection.’

‘There is no way to find him brother, we both know this.’ Natasha contradicted and Ivan sent her a small smile.

‘But there is a way to draw him out,’ He countered, before he looked to his subordinate at the door. ‘Anderson, I want to modify and activate the hit placed on one Alfred Jones.’

‘How so sir?’

‘Instead of a asset, reassign one of our Lucid operatives. Tell them that after they have completed the hit, I want Britannia by the end of the evening.’

Anderson bowed his head before he left, leaving Natasha alone to stare at her brother as she waited for him to explain his plan.

* * *

 Terra City, Spades District, 221 Bakers Street

The morning sun was dazzling as Arthur Kirkland waited on the pavement outside his penthouse’s building for his drive to school. His thick brows were furrowed as he thought. Over breakfast, Allistor had reported with regret that Doctor Edelstein had not been among the accounted for passengers on the S.S.Lovecraft, and thus had officially been labelled as the latest victim of the string of neuroscientist kidnappings.

The media was having a field day with the story, with headlines screaming about the falling standards of the Terra Police Department, criticising their overgenerous tolerance for the nightly vigilantes. There were articles that argued that vigilantes such as Britannia should no longer be allowed to go about unchecked, questioning how the city could feel safe when they didn’t know who is defending them. The whole city was on edge, with the pressure only being slightly relieved once the Mayor gave a statement early in the morning that promised a large budget increase for the TPD, as well as a confirmation that the annual city-wide founding festival scheduling will be unaffected due to the recent events.

While it would be bad news for Britannia if the TPD decided to take up the tabloids demands and brand him an outlaw, it was the identity and motivations of the kidnapper herself that troubled Arthur the most; with he nor his brothers able to think of a reason why she would want to abduct him alongside Edelstein. She had proven herself to be an extremely capable opponent, easily overpowering both him and Columbia, and Arthur knew nothing about her to draw a connection upon. By taking Edelstein, Arthur’s only option was to pray that whatever Edelstein’s research was would be enough to point him in the right direction. He would have to move soon, before even that was lost to him.

Arthur was pulled out of his thoughts when the rumbling sound of a motor engine slowed to a stop on the pavement in front of him. Alfred Jones, wearing a navy hoodie and a white t-shirt, flashed Arthur a knee-weakening grin around the patisserie paper bag he bit between his perfect teeth.

‘I brought breakfast! Hope you like blueberry muffins.’ The American said as he freed his mouth and handed them to Arthur as he approached.

Arthur returned the easy smile. ‘I love them.’ He replied as he climbed onto the bike and wrapped his arm around Alfred’s abdomen. With a kick, the bike’s engine rumbled to life and soon they were weaving through traffic; the wind blowing Alfred’s scents of soap, coffee and leather in Arthur’s face.

* * *

 Terra City, Spades District, The University of Gaia.

‘It’s rubbish! Why did it have to Bonnefoy of all the professors to take over my class?,’ Arthur grumbled as he and Alfred walked up the main entrance’s stairs, half eaten blueberry muffins in hand. The corridor’s were packed, and as they navigated their way through, Arthur began to notice that they attracting attention from their fellow students.

‘Why are people staring at us?’ Arthur whispered and saw Alfred smirk before he shoved the last of his muffin into his chops, licking his fingers to savour every crumb.

‘Dude. They’re looking you.’ The american snorted as though the answer were blindingly obvious.

Arthur scowled, confused. ‘Why?’ He asked, and Alfred looked at him in disbelief.

‘Probably because they’ve never actually seen you with anyone before.’ Alfred chuckled and pointedly to Arthur’s muffin suggestively. Arthur rolled his eyes and handed it over with pretend reluctance.

‘Why would they care who I speak to?’ He thought aloud, not realising he had until Alfred answered, right after he had inhaled his muffin.

‘Because you’re Arthur Kirkland,’ The exaggerated emphasis of his name was accompanied with theatrical jazz hands, ‘mysterious English student. The guy those secrets everyone wants to know.’ Alfred breezily replied with a playful nudge in his side. Arthur paused as he processed this information, and a new thought occurred to him.

‘And you? Do you want to know my secrets?’ Arthur asked curiously, cocking his head slight to the side as he watched carefully for his reaction. Alfred met his stare and pouted his lips as he thought.

‘I’d rather get to know you first before we get to the secrets.’ He said with a wink, and Arthur averted his eyes, a pink blush flushed his cheeks as they turned the corner to walk into the university’s library. Arthur much preferred this space to the hallways, there weren’t as many eyes following him here. After dumping their bags on a table, Arthur pulled out a chair to sit, when a out of place, familiar face caught his eye. Lukas Bolshevik stood leaning against a nearby bookshelf, and when his eyes met Arthur’s, he gave the slightest motion of his head for Arthur to follow.

‘You alright?’ Alfred asked when he noticed Arthur’s distracted expression.

‘Yes. Just excuse me for a minute.’ He dazedly replied and walked over to the secluded corner where Lukas waited for him, a large yellow envelope in his hand. Arthur glanced from side to side as he approached, certain no one would be close enough to overhear. He raised a brow when Lukas said nothing but instead handed him the envelope. He took it and reached inside.

Photographs, about twenty of them. Arthur scowled as he picked one of them out and examined it. It was a picture taken of a work of art; an oil painting of a young man silhouetted by the stars’ celestial glow. His only distinct features: his glowing blonde hair that resembled a halo and brilliantly bright green eyes. A lump grew in his throat as the truth became increasingly and undeniably clear. They were all of him.

Arthur returned them to Lukas. ‘What is this?’ He hissed.

‘What everyone Lucid is dreaming of.’ Lukas quietly replied, his dark indigo eyes troubled.

‘What do you mean? How can everyone Lucid be dreaming of me?’

‘Arthur, I don’t understand what is happening either. No one knows, but it’s all anyone can see, be it dreams or visions.’

‘And everyone is experiencing this?,’ Arthur asked with a knotted stomach. ‘Has anyone proposed any theories on why?’

Lukas nodded grimly. ‘The most popular is that someone is broadcasting, trying to get your attention or find you.’

Arthur ran his hand down his face as he tried to understand what this meant. Everyone Lucid would know his face, which wouldn’t be a problem except if they were in close proximity to him. The woman in white…She was in the city, and now she would know his face. Shit.

‘You have to be careful Arthur,’ Lukas warned. ‘If anyone Lucid sees you, it’s almost certain that they will approach you.’

‘I’ll be careful.’ Arthur reassured as Lukas tucked the envelope under his arm and touched his elbow as he made to pass.

‘I’ll be looking into this, Arthur. I’ll find out what this means.’ Lukas promised with a squeeze. With an internal sigh of relief, Arthur gave him a grateful nod as he stepped away and headed back to the table where Alfred was at. A line formed between his brows when he saw who had joined him.

* * *

 ‘You alright?’ Alfred asked as he gave Arthur a concerned look up and down, the Brit staring off into the distance. He noticed that was a reoccurring with Arthur. He was a very spacey person, always seemingly staring at something Alfred could never see.

‘Yes. Just excuse me for a minute.’ Arthur mumbled before he set off towards the archaeology section. Alfred stared after him, confused as hell. What was his problem? He was just about to raise from his seat when three girls marched over to the table and sat themselves down promptly in front of him. Alfred recognised them as members of the cheerleading society; all of them the two dimensional blonde stereotypes, and all of them had tried to get with him when he had been on the football team.

‘Spill Jones. What did you do to get on speaking terms with Arthur Kirkland?’ Brittany McCall sneered as she slammed her perfectly manicured hand against the table, leaning forward into his personal space. Alfred privately sighed before he put on his sweetest smile.

‘Bonnefoy paired us up. We went to the Mia Everson exhibition at Diamond’s art museum,’ He answered nonchalantly. ‘We just got on. He’s awesome.’

Blonde clone number 2 (Alfred thought her name was Ashely) sighed and fanned herself as she gazed over to where Arthur was talking to someone out of view, a scowl that could be considered semi permanent on his face. ‘He sure is. I could just make love to that accent.’ She swooned and the other two joined in ogling at him.

‘He’s such a gentleman. Y’know, I heard a rumour from Elena that he’s secretly a relative of the Queen of England.’

‘Yeah, but look at that shoulder to waist ratio! I could cut myself on those hips. Ah, I bet he has the cutest back dimples.’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know~’ An accented voice purred and the girls each gave a short squeak of surprise as professor Francis Bonnefoy stepped from around the nearby bookshelf and perched himself on the table. Now Alfred hadn’t exactly appreciated the girls drooling over Arthur like a piece of meat, but hearing those words from Bonnefoy struck a disagreeing nerve inside of him.

As the girls weakly mumbled excuses to leave, Alfred raised his brow at his professor, not sure whether he had been serious or not. ‘You sure you can be saying things like that sir?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with admiring the view is there?’ Francis waved away, though his gaze quite clearly ran up and down the length of Arthur’s body. The green eyed monster stirred inside Alfred. Francis looked back to him when no response came, and chuckled. ‘Oh please, Arthur and I have always had that kind of relationship.’

Red flooded Alfred’s cheeks at the unwelcome mental image and Francis immediately laughed at the colour. ‘Relax Alfred, I am only teasing.’ He smirked, and led to Alfred narrow his eyes at him.

‘Are you?’ He accused suspiciously, and Francis only winked in response, not giving him a clear answer. At that point, Arthur broke away from whoever he had been talking to and frowned when he saw Francis at their table. The professor pushed off the table to launch himself at the Brit.

‘Good morning, mon cher!’ Francis sang as he swooped in for a kiss, only to be denied when Arthur grabbed the nearest book off the shelf and held it up as a shield.

‘What’s you want Frog?’ Arthur scowled as he breezed past up to the table. He reached for his bag and when he turned around, Francis was close behind him, leaning in. Arthur shot out a arm for support as he was forced to lean back to keep the distance between them.

‘Do I have to have a reason to be here other than to savour you?’ Francis purred with rich seduction, his eyes smothering. Arthur’s jaw squared.

‘I’m not some platter, cheese breath.’ He snappishly dismissed and the frenchman drew in closer, parting his lips ever so slightly.

‘Quite right. You’re the wine.’ He agreed in a husky voice, and Alfred felt if the air was going to get any hotter, he was going to break into a sweat. He gave a very loud, very deliberate awkward clearing of his throat. Still uncomfortably leaning back over the table, Arthur blinked rapidly before remembering that Alfred was there, and blushed furiously as Francis pulled away; a smug, satisfied smirk pulling on his lips. As though nothing had even happened, Francis pivoted away with a flourish.

‘Well then boys, I’ll see you in the gymnasium for next period. Au revoir mes gâteaux à la crème~’ He said and blew a kiss to the pair of them, disappearing out of sight around the shelves. There was a moment of pause before Arthur let out a anger huff and planted himself down. He grabbed a random book and practically wrenched it open to bury his crimson face inside. Alfred sat there for another moment, unsure how to feel about what he had just seen.

‘So uh-,’ He cleared his throat again, ‘are you two, like sleeping together?’

Arthur slammed the book shut, his blush fading as he glared. ‘Of course we bloody aren’t!’ He retorted, and Alfred looked at him from over his glasses.

‘Seriously? Looked like to me he couldn’t ‘bloody’ keep his hands off you.’ Alfred riposted, poorly mimicking Arthur’s accent with a cross of his arms. Arthur’s glare turned acidic, and Alfred’s brain recalled night when he had seen him bodyslam a grown man to the pavement with his thighs…

‘Okay, I’m sorry. That was too far,’ He apologised with a bowed head, wondering if Arthur was still glaring. Arguing wasn’t the way to go when you wanted to be friends with a person. When he raised his eyes, Arthur had put the book aside and his frown was gone.

‘I forgive you. Now, let’s get that frog’s lesson over and done with.’ He smiled, and Alfred thought about how much younger it made him as he got up and they walked out of the library.

‘Hey, what do you think Bonnefoy’s lesson is gonna be about?’ Alfred asked with a bounce as they left the English department and turned at the crossroads to head down towards the gymnasium.

‘It’s probably going to be ridiculous.’ Arthur complained over the student traffic chatter, shuffling closer to Alfred to use as a shield when the current took particularly strong. Alfred silently chuckled at the display before his attention was drawn to the right of the hallway where Amelia Franklin stood waving a colourful banner; she was a cute girl, with bouncy ringlets of caramel and a button nose. She had been the first student to approach Alfred when he had moved to Terra, and although they weren’t close anymore, Alfred still held a soft spot for her.

‘The Superhero watch club is accepting new members! Anyone is welcome! Oh, hey Alfred.’ Amelia greeted halfheartedly as they drew near. Alfred raised a hand and waved.

‘Hey Amelia, how’s recruitment going?’ He asked out of politeness, despite the answer being painfully clear from the high piles of leaflets on the table stand beside her.

Amelia sighed. ‘Not great I’m afraid. I can’t understand why though, we have lots of material to go over with what happened last night on the S.S.Lovecraft with Britannia, Columbia and Oz.’

Arthur pointed at her t-shirt that had a stylised logo of Britannia’s gas mask on it. ‘I take it you are a big fan then?’ He remarked.

Amelia’s eyes lit up as they turned to him. ‘How could I not be a fan of our city’s greatest defender! Blow what the news say! Britannia is an icon for Terra. He’s so cool and amazing with his magic. I literally couldn’t wait for him and Columbia to get together.’

A idiotically happy grin slapped itself onto Alfred’s face; so overjoyed at the thought of someone other than him thought that he and Britannia were made for each other to notice Arthur’s violent, explosive choking fit.

‘W-why would you think that?! I mean, isn’t Britannia more of a solo artist?’ The Brit wheezed and Amelia waved away the comment with a hand.

‘Puh-lease, it’s so obvious that they’re made for each other. They just don’t know it.’

Alfred was still over the moon, mentally dancing and fist pumping the air to see Arthur press his lips into a tight line. Someone other than him that they were made for each other! Wait till he rubbed it in Matthew’s face!

‘No, no no. It’s Oz and Columbia, Britannia clearly has no romantic interest for such a noob.’ A new voice cried out from the crowd and Amelia’s head snapped up like a meerkat who had spotted danger.

‘No, they’re just beautiful friends!,’ She shouted back as she set her banner and pulled her sleeves, and threw herself into the crowd. ‘I will fight you!’

‘Ha- hey. Hey, what do you think of Britannia?’ Alfred laughed as he swiped a tear away, the gymnasiums double doors in sight. Arthur didn’t look at him as he shoved them open; inside, a smaller crowd of students of Arthur’s and Alfred’s class combined stood before Francis.

‘I think Britannia would rather focus on protecting the city.’ He curtly stated.

‘But do you think he likes Columbia?’ Alfred persisted, and Arthur sighed as they joined the back of the muttering crowd.

‘I…don’t think he dislikes him.’ He eventually relented and Alfred flashed him a quick smile before Bonnefoy clapped his hands to call for everyone’s attention.

* * *

 Spades District, University of Gaia, Gymnasium.

‘As you know, the founding festival is drawing close and this year, our Mayor has put forward for the University of Gaia to participant. During this combined class, we will all be learning a waltz for the masquerade ball display that will take place in front of city hall.’ He announced and almost immediately, the gym was echoing with the mutters of the students. A ball? A waltz?!

Francis clapped his hands again impatiently. ‘Now, I want everyone to organise themselves into dance partners.’

There was a scuffling as everyone rushed to pair up when Arthur felt a touch on his shoulder. Alfred stood with a sheepish grin and his hands shoved into his pocket. ‘Wanna partner?’ He asked with adorable puppy dog eyes and Arthur opened his mouth to accept, when he felt a arm snake around his waist.

‘M’accordez-vous cette danse?,’ May I have this dance? Francis hummed in ear, and before Arthur could think of an insult, the frenchman had already pulled him to the centre of the gymnasium. Unable to escape, Arthur restrained himself to glaring as Francis gave him a quick wink and turned back to address his audience.

‘Now, myself and my partner will demonstrate how to properly hold each other before showing you the dance itself. First, I take his right into my left,’ Francis instructed, his actions mirroring his words, ‘and while his left hand rests on my shoulder, my right hand will rest on his waist.’

‘Make sure you keep it there.’ Arthur hissed under his breath, and ground his teeth when Francis smirked at him before abruptly pulling their hips closer together.

‘Relax, mon cher. You are in good hands.’ He smiled as the opening beats of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake began to play. Resisting the urge to vomit as he allowed himself to be led, Arthur moved his feet in time with Francis as they glided across the glossy boards. The steps came back to Arthur as easily as water, the gentle sway taking him back to the ballroom where he had first learnt; it had been his mother’s hand in his back then, her voice guiding him with a smile. They had been in Russia, undercover protection work for the royal family.

‘Awfully distracted, aren’t we mon amour?’ Francis’ voice stirred him back into the present, and Arthur’s pulse quickened when he realised just how close their faces were to one another. Pools of hypnotic indigo so close that they threatened to drown him in their depths. And perhaps they would of, had Arthur not been distinctly aware of another pair of eyes on them. Alfred’s stare from among the space acted as his personal anchor, and Arthur stole a glance over to him before shooting Francis daggers.

‘None of your business, Frog face.’

Francis feigned hurt. ‘You are my partner, Arthur. All your attention should be on me.’ He teased, and Arthur raised a thick eyebrow when he detected the near indivisible edge to his words. The corners of his lips felt a upwards pull.

‘Jealous Bonnefoy?’ He smirked wickedly, and a dangerous flash glinted across Francis’ eyes that turned Arthur’s bones soft. The frenchman spun him only to suddenly dip him; his back arched in an elegant curve with all his weight entrusted in Francis’s hands. The dizziness made Arthur breathless as he stared up wide-eyed at the man gazed back with transparent lust.

‘Que faire se je suis?’ What if I am? He growled lowly, and to his horror, Arthur felt blood rush to his cheeks.

‘Do you want us to learn that to?’ Alfred’s voice boomed from seemingly miles away and the gymnasium was filled with laughter. The blush deepened to crimson as Arthur remembered their audience and frantically untangled himself from Francis. The laughter died to chuckles, and with an amused smile, Francis opened his mouth to speak, when a shrill scream shattered the good-natured atmosphere of the air.


	7. Britannia and Alfred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has over 14 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading ahead, it's posted there under the same name.
> 
> What to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or what to ask me a question?  
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 Spades District, The University of Gaia, The Gymnasium

The girl’s abrupt screech tore Arthur and Francis apart. All heads snapped to the screamer as she sank to the floor; her fingers knotted in her hair whilst a glassy sheer possessed her vacant eyes. A ring formed around her as the students backed away fearfully. Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he watched Francis push through the crowd, and kneel to wave a hand over her unblinking eyes. The air was deadly still as they all waited for his evaluation.

‘She is in some kind of trance.’ The professor concluded when another loud gasp resounded from a student lingering around the edge of the circle.

‘Hey! Who turned out the lights?’ He cried, and Arthur’s hairs on the back of his neck stood on end with the dawning realisation that something was very wrong here. Carefully, he lowered his mental barriers and stretched out telepathically, searching for the source of their hysterics.

‘I won’t let you take my money. It’s mine!’ Arthur heard to his left and gasped when he felt someone grab him from behind. When the deranged student spun him around, his hand going for his neck, Arthur’s eyes went wide when in he sensed a near transparent haze cloud clinging to him.

As though from nowhere, Alfred was at his side, and shoved the entranced student away from him. All around them, more and more of their fellow classmates began to succumb the strange trance; blabbing nonsense and wandering aimlessly as though in a dream.

‘What is happening?,’ Alfred muttered in Arthur’s ear and the Brit gulped as the floor tilted out from under him. A weak groan escaped as his knees buckled. Had it not been for Alfred’s quick reactions, he would of slumped to the floor. ‘Woah! Arthur? Arthur!’

A sheer of sweat broke out on Arthur’s forehead as he clung to Alfred, the sudden dizziness leaving him breathless, when there was a loud crackle of static as the PA system was turned on and a voice, that Arthur vaguely recognised as the girl Amelia, shouted over it.

‘Attention all students! There is a super villain on school premises! Stay away from the weird flowers and do not, I repeat not, breathe in the spores they release!’ She exclaimed over the mic, and Arthur swallowed thickly, his stomach plummeted. This couldn’t be happening. Not here, not now. H-how the bloody hell was he supposed to think straight, let alone fight? Distantly, Arthur heard Alfred shout his name, but the sound was distant with an strange echo to it, as though his head was stuck in a deep vase.

As Arthur’s feet scrambled to find themselves again, his mouth opened to tell Alfred that they had to hide, when the same haze that he had seen on the entranced students clouded his vision. A lone figure materialised from across the gym; a humanoid coiling mass of shadows with no clear edges. Arthur’s breath hitched as he felt the familiar dimensional shift of his lucidity, and knew that he was Bleeding, knew that what he saw before him was not of the third dimension. As the being’s indivisible eyes locked onto his, and a toothy cheshire cat grin stretched on it’s ‘face’.

‘Found you~’ It purred, and began to stalk towards him. Unable to tear his eyes away, the complete embodiment of a deer in the headlights, Arthur twisted Alfred’s shirt for his attention.

‘Alfred, you have to slap me,’ He wheezed, his voice cracking in it’s desperation.

‘What? Why?’

Arthur tightened his grip, the lack of oxygen to his brain causing large black spots appear and swallow him up. ‘Just do it!’ He begged as he felt his eyes begin to roll up, his consciousness slipping off the tightrope.

The blow came almost instantaneously, and after wincing from the sting, Arthur blinked furiously to see Alfred’s worried face level with his. The haze was gone, the world in focus again.

‘Better?’ He asked and Arthur looked for the haunting figure, giving a sigh of relief when he saw that they were gone.

‘Much.’ Is what he would of said, if not the interruption of a loud bang! as the gym doors were thrown wide and a little boy strode through them.

He was disturbingly young, only twelve years of age, with curly hair and bagged eyes that were too old for their face. From his black jumpsuit, dark ivy and vines sprouted from the seams that curled around his arms and writhed in the impression of live snakes. Even if Arthur had not sensed it about him, the metal shock collar around the boy’s neck revealed the terrible truth: that not only was the boy Lucid as he was, but a soldier slave to the Winter Syndicate.The sight of the collar caused Arthur to freeze as past hauntings of it’s cruel weight around his own neck stirred.

The boy smiled as he scanned the chaos of the gymnasium, and his smile grew to a perverse grin when his dark eyes settled on Alfred. His lips pursed as though to speak, went slack as his stare widened as it fell on Arthur. Arthur knew what he saw; the face he had seen in his dreams.

‘You.’ He mouthed with a frown, and Britannia’s instincts took over. As adrenaline shot through him, banishing the dizziness, Arthur grabbed Alfred’s hand and ran.

‘Stop!’ A shriek came after them as Arthur shoulder barraged open the other set of double doors out of the gym and they burst into the sleepwalking student infested corridor. From the vine riddled ceiling, giant colourful hibiscuses hung, and remembering Amelia’s warning, Arthur covered his face with his free hand to avoid breathing in the flowers’ airborne spores. A glance over his shoulder saw that Alfred mirrored the action while he looked back towards the gym. Arthur bit his lip and pushed his legs harder. He had to get Alfred away from him and these flowers.

‘In there!’ Alfred yelled as they turned the corner and dived into nearest classroom that had been converted into a greenhouse; the professor and his students all staring blankly into space inside surrounded by greenery. Without a pause, Arthur pulled Alfred over to the window and wrenched it open. After waiting a few seconds, he lowered his hand and inhaled the fresh air. Beside him, Alfred squatted back on his heels and hung his head.

‘What,’ The american gasped between pants, ‘what are we gonna do?’

Arthur looked down at him, his mother’s voice quietly urging him to ditch Alfred and summon the Britannia suit before the boy found them. ‘I’m going to lead him away. While I do, you run and get help.’

Alfred’s head jerked up. ‘Yeah, like hell that’s going to happen. Half the school is under his control and I totally saw the way he looked at you. It was like he knew you or something. No, no way, we are sticking together.’ He protested with a glare, and Arthur quietly cursed. He hadn’t thought Alfred could be that observant.

‘If we stay together and get caught, then it'll be too late before help arrives. If he’s so interested in me, then I’ll be able to draw him away while you get somewhere safe and contact the police.’

‘No! I’m not abandoning you!’ Alfred declared, and Arthur was struck how alike he and Columbia were in their unmovable stubbornness (of course, Alfred’s was much more endearing than that american idiot’s).

Arthur sighed as he knew what he had to do. ‘Be safe. Get help.’ He ordered, before he inhaled a deep breath and sprang for the door, Alfred too slow to stop him from reentering the corridor again. Slamming the door shut behind him, Arthur took a quick check of his surroundings before breaking into a run down the corridor the boy would have gone in pursuit. His boots squeaked against the polished floor, careful not to collide with any of the students as he paced through the hallway that led to the university’s cafeteria.

Decreasing his speed, Arthur jogged through the canteen’s pinned open doors and saw that the hall was strikingly empty in comparison to the rest of the school. The rounded tables had been moved to the side by vines as thick as his torso and when Arthur moved closer, he cried out in surprise as he was yanked into the air by his wrists. The same vines he had gone to investigate were now animate and had silently crept behind him, slithering down and around his squirming form. Arthur strained against the bindings as they pinned his arms at his side, and lashed out a desperate kick only to have the foot ensnared, shortly followed by the other.

Behind him, a thick lump formed in his throat as the sound of soft footsteps grew louder. Arthur craned his neck to watch as the boy padded out from around him and surveyed him, his expression unreadable.

‘You’re him,’ The boy chimed in a high prepubescent voice, causing goosebumps to crawl across Arthur’s skin. He was going to have to use his powers, use them against a child who could of lived a normal life if not for the Syndicate. A hiss escaped between his teeth as the vines tightened and lowered him closer to their master. The boy climbed onto a near table, and when Arthur was level with him, roughly grabbed his face from under the jaw and twisted it from side to side, examining it from every angle.

‘And you’re one of us.’ He softly cooed.

‘What are you doing here, attacking a school?’ Arthur demanded, trying hard not to look at the shock collar, and the boy hummed disinterestedly as he pulled and patted Arthur’s cheeks; a lingering finger traced the faint freckles there.

‘Contract to kill a student. Goes by the name of ‘Alfred Jones’. Know him?’ He asked teasingly, and unknowingly chuckled as Arthur’s magic ignited like fire on oil in his veins. All sympathy Arthur may have had for him evaporated.

The vines that held him exploded into sap, freeing his arms and Arthur brought them forward to strike out his palm against the boy’s chest, putting all his telepathic force behind it. The boy’s small frame was thrown backwards to crash and snap in half a round table from the other end of the canteen.

Arthur dropped, and landed on the balls on his feet, breathing heavily. Alfred. Alfred’s life was stake. Fierce protectiveness slammed into Arthur like a freight train. Lava, not blood, pounded through him, the blistering burn scorching him from the inside out. A good burn. It made and morales mercy easy to ignore.

Reaching into his shirt’s chest pocket, Arthur retrieved his smart phone and pulled back the cover, revealing a small piece of folded slip of paper tucked inside. Replacing the phone, he opened it and focused on the rune he had prepared with blood printed there. Concentrating on maintaining the correct rate of Bleeding, he combusted the paper with his mind.

As the slip crackled, Arthur’s own clothes burst into bright bluebell flames, and after a brief second of  nudity, Britannia’s suit materialised out of the fire. Arthur stared down with satisfaction at his now gloved fingers and flexed them experimentally before he reached for the gas mask that hung on the utility belt and donned it, pulling the half jacket’s hood over his head to complete the look.

From across the room, the boy clambered to his feet and shook his head, turning up his eyes to narrow them at Britannia. ‘Now that’s a development I did not expect. The man from our dreams is also the famous Britannia Angel. Wow. Have anymore shocking and fantastic revelations up your sleeve?’ He giggled as he dusted himself and Britannia cracked his head from side to side.

‘A few.’ He smirked and lunged.

* * *

 Spades District, The University of Gaia, Classroom BT

‘Oh my god are you okay? Are you hurt?’

‘No. No I’m fine. Listen, Matt, I need you to call the TPD. The insidious kid’s got powers like Britannia, like he can control plants and shit. I’m going to go for my locker. I stashed the spare suit in there.’ Alfred spoke without breath as he peered through the classroom’s door to check the scene. It was all clear, no creepy boy to be seen.

‘You took the spare suit to school behind my back?!’ His brother yelled from their apartment living room, his mobile pinned between his eye and shoulder as he scrambled to start up his coordinator set up.

‘Yeah, well now, I’m seriously glad I didn’t. Arthur was with me and he just freaking took off to distract the bad guy before I could stop him. I gotta hurry and make sure he doesn’t get himself hurt. Over and out.’ Alfred said before he cut the call and edged out of the classroom to head down the corridor, towards the canteen where his locker was.

* * *

 Spades District, The University of Gaia, The Student Canteen

Britannia grunted as an organic tendril coiled around his ankle, and cried out as it ripped his feet from under him, whipping him around to launch him back through the double doors he had came through. His breath was forced out of his lungs when he bounced against the smooth floor, and skidded to a slow stop. Britannia allowed himself a second to just lay there, before he forced himself onto his knees, wincing as his battered muscles ached in protest. Shit. The brat was more capable than he had hoped.

‘Britannia!’ The gas mask snapped up, to have it’s wearer’s blood run cold when he saw Alfred Jones standing in the nextcorridor. Oh no. The doors, still swinging from when he had been thrown through them, were flung open as the boy stalked through them.

‘We aren’t finished.’ He hissed as he shot out another hand and the vines mimicked the movement, snapping for Britannia. His fear for Alfred overriding his fatigue, Britannia sprang and like he had done in the gymnasium, grabbed Alfred’s hand as he sprinted past; half dragging him behind him as he fled. The two of them charged through the next set of double doors that marked the start of the locker hall and as they did, Britannia swiped a hand out behind him. The locker wall nearest the door shrieked and squealed against the floor as it pivoted and slammed against it.

His sense of urgency so what reassured with the metal barricade between them, Britannia turned to Alfred and quickly scanned him for wounds. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘I’m good,’ Alfred shakily replied, a blush colouring his cheeks as he looked down at their still entwined hands. A bright crimson flushed Britannia’s cheeks under his mask when he realised and let go as if he'd been stung. He suddenly didn’t know where to look. Alfred nervously cleared his throat.

‘Um, this corridor is clear, but all the students are under some kind of trance from those flowers.’ Alfred added with a point to the overhead flower; it’s slow releasing spores gently floating down like particles of dust. Britannia gave an internal sigh, grateful that his mask filtered out such particles, when a question struck him. Despite being unprotected, Alfred was talking and breathing normally. He wasn’t in a trancelike state as the others were.

‘Why aren’t you affected?’ He questioned with a raised indivisible brow. The american shrugged before he blanched.

‘Oh crap. You haven’t seen a guy with blond hair and green eyes running around have you? His name is Arthur Kirkland, he’s my friend and he ran off to confront that villain.’ Alfred pleaded, his strong hands tightly grasping Britannia by the shoulders to the point where it was painful.

‘I did. I got him out before he could engage,’ Britannia grimaced, shrinking back from Alfred’s iron grip when there was a loud bang and the locker wall bulged.

‘Get behind me, and when I say run, run.’ He stated with an outstretched hand to ward Alfred back, positioning his body so that it formed a shield between the assassin and his would be target. The wall of lockers gave another bulge before it’s strength gave and the doors were torn from their hinges. Surrounded by the flora, the boy stepped through the doorway, a trail of blood running from his nose; a telltale sign that he was starting to push beyond the safe amount of Bleeding.

Britannia gritted his teeth. If the boy was going to push the limits, using regular magic to win the fight wouldn’t cut it. He had no choice, but to summon it. ‘Get back!’ He yelled to Alfred, his magic once again, flaring as he Bled the realities.

‘Call it’s name.’ His mother’s voice whispered to him, and Britannia felt hot air whip around him as he visualised the awesome blade that was evil’s bane. His vision became tinted with the haze as Britannia increased the Bleed, the strenuous sensation comparable to holding apart the world’s strongest magnets. A fresh sheer of sweat broke onto his forehead as Britannia imagined the golden hand and a half handle, the double edged blade of starlight that radiated holy light. His magic climbed, and climbed, building higher and higher as Britannia Bled, truly lucid as the third and fourth dimension temporarily fused as one by his command. The power rippling through him as an electrified current, Britannia extended his hand skyward with his eyes closed, the name of power already rolling off his tongue.

**_‘Excalibur!’_ **

There was a explosive clap of thunder as the legendary weapon, his weapon, exploded into existence with the immense repulsion of the dimensions; rightfully separate once again. A satisfied smile slipped onto Britannia’s face as he felt the weight of the handle form in his hand, and he brandished it with a flourish before pointing it level with the astounded boy.

‘This is your only warning. Yield.’ Britannia threatened. The boy regarded the blade wearily as it hummed with blessed light.

‘Jeez, just who are you. How can you wield that much power?,’ He breathed, before a sadistic leer stretched his lips, reminding Britannia of the shadowy figure he had seen in the gymnasium. ‘Ah, guess I’ll just have to string it out of you.’ He giggled and shot out a hand. In a flash, the vines launched themselves towards them. Britannia tightened his grip and with both hands, swung the sword of kings. The blade beamed and a crescent slice of sunlight flew out from blazing swing arc. The slice did not disperse after obliterating the green tentacles, but sheared cleanly through the metal lockers and concrete walls as though they were butter, it’s flight unstoppable; the boy was forced to throw himself to the floor to avoid being severed in half.

Britannia gave a sharp gasp as fatigue splintered through him, near crumpling to ground as his knees almost buckled. With quick, swallow pants, he gritted his teeth and pushed through it as he turned back to Alfred, and motioned for them to run. His friend looked at the sword he held in his hands in complete awe.

‘Duuuudde! You’ve been pulling your punches big time!’ Alfred grinned and Britannia couldn’t even bring himself to smile. It was taking all his concentration to think straight.

‘I don’t remember it being this draining.’ He hissed to himself just as a shriek splintered the air behind them. Instinctively, as the reliable warning chill rode down his spine, Britannia shoved Alfred hard to the floor, the action ruining whatever defence he might of brought up as a battering ram of vines crunched into his abdomen. His brain was incapable of registering the pain as he was catapulted off his feet, the incredible momentum crashing him through the gymnasium doors to smash against the wall opposite.

He did not remember hitting the floor, and when his consciousness remerged, the world was spinning with no end; the footsteps that approached each an exploding land mine. Had he been able to form a coherent thought, Britannia would of questioned why his spine hadn’t shattered on impact, or why his brain was still solid, not liquefied on the wall.

Instead, the thing he was insensibly aware was the hollow rattle of his ribcage as his lungs desperately tried to draw air into them. A whimper that would have been groan, if not for the lack of oxygen, slipped from him as Britannia numbly felt his rag doll body be lifted up. There was a reverberating clang of metal as Excalibur fell from his lame grip, and clattered to the waxed floor.

The boy stared at his captive with wild bloodshot eyes whilst dangerously thick streams of blood poured from his nostrils and corners of his mouth. His hagged breaths hunched over his trembling form as he staggered closer, barely able to hold himself together.

‘When I look at you, it gets clearer,’ His babyish voice rasped. ‘The voice, the one that sounds like it comes from the Void.’

He didn’t even have the strength to choke when the boy wrapped his bloodless hands around his neck and started squeezing. ‘What is so different about you? What does it want?’

Britannia’s lungs began to scream as his heartbeat grew louder; the wavelike pulses of blood in his head drowning out all other sound. Black spots appeared and swallowed up his vision as at the same time, the pressure inside his skull swelled like a cancerous tumour to the point where he thought it would burst. Arthur knew, as his eyeballs rolled back into his head, that he was dying.

He was dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it…

And then, the pressure vanished with a scream. Britannia's limp body slammed against the floor. Free, it uncontrollably spasmed and Britannia felt his acidic bile churn in his gut; tears and clear mucus and sweat streaming from seemingly everywhere as another spasm rode through him, convulsing his heart back to beating. Choked on the his spit, he wildly spluttered to free his airway. His chest spasmed again, heaved, gulping down air as a starved man.

He didn’t know how long it took him to crawl his way back from death’s door, with the first rational thought to form being one of awareness that he had been unconsciously Bleeding, his magic ceaselessly fighting to keep his brain alive and his lungs from collapsing. After a minute of wrestling his body back under his control, Britannia managed to crack open an eye.

What he saw caused him to dry retch.

Towering over the collapsed students, Britannia saw a giant skeletal cat with no fur nor fat to pad it’s grotesque frame, but with only shrivelled ash grey skin that clung to it’s bones. It’s amber slitted eyes glinted as it continued to chew on the head of the Lucid boy, a final crunch! of it’s powerful fangs relieved it from it’s dangling body. Another wave of nausea overcame Britannia like a riptide as he impossibly forced a knee up, and swallowed back down the bile that climbed up his thorax. The demented cat watched him with curiosity as it swallowed and, unbelievably, grinned a wicked grin at him; proudly showing off it’s dark red strained whiskers and teeth. Even as Britannia quaveringly reached for Excalibur, leaning all of his weight heavily on it to prop himself up, the cat swished it’s tail as it looked down to a defenceless sleeping student; it’s horrid grin widened with bared teeth for the next meal.

‘NO!’ The scream tore itself from Britannia’s raw throat as he lunged forward, the miracle adrenaline coursing through him the only thing keeping him standing. With a shriek, Britannia swung Excalibur and sliced off it’s right paw. The great cat yowled as it reared back onto it’s hind legs and stomped down to send a vibrating quake throughout the gymnasium. Unable to tell whose screams were whose, Britannia forced himself to spin to follow up with a decapitating blow, when the cat’s colossal claws sank into the flesh of his back. Unable to stop the already set momentum, the swing struck true, and simultaneously as Excalibur cleaved the cat’s head from it’s neck, the sunk in killer claws carved in deep, horizontal ragged gouges in his back.

Pain unlike he had ever experienced before imploded Arthur’s mind as his body keeled over. Excalibur exploded into millions of firefly lights as his magic finally gave out in exhaustion, paralytic numbness seized up his utterly drained body. With nothing left to give, worn down to nothing, Arthur Kirkland collapsed face down on the saturated floor of blood, and began to bleed out.

* * *

 Alfred had never ran so fast in his entire life as he had that day as he raced back to the gym. His boots drummed against the squeaky corridor’s floor (had he been paying attention, he would of noted that the previous vines and hibiscus flowers were missing) and when he reached the gym’s double doors, he threw them open to be met with the suffocating rusty smell of blood.

His hand leapt to his mouth as he retched, tears whelming in the corners of his eyes as he took in the bloody scene, until worse of all, he saw Britannia laying in a puddle of leaking gore beside a dismembered gigantic cat’s skeleton. The dread that splintered through him was the only thing preventing him from vomiting again as he stumbled stupefied to Britannia’s side. He collapsed to his knees when he saw the three rigged gashes in his crimson clothed back.

‘No,’ Alfred’s voice cracked as his hands tremblingly hovered over Britannia’s still form. ‘No. Please, god no!.’

Britannia couldn’t—

He couldn’t be—

A wail rose up and burst from his hollowed chest. Alfred Jones caved in on himself as he howled, and spluttered and wept for his dead hero, the only one he had ever loved.


	8. In sickness and in Health

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has over 14 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading ahead, it's posted there under the same name.
> 
> What to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or want to ask me a question or send a prompt?  
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 Spades District, University of Gaia, The Gymnasium

A wet, bubbled choke interrupted the sodden rhythm of Alfred Jone’s sobs, and caused him to freeze. Hesitantly, too scared to dare hope, Alfred blinked away the tears and stared at the body before him.

‘Don’t fool yourself Alfred. You’re seeing things. Britannia is dead, and he is dead because you couldn’t save him.’ His darkest voices taunted; the same ones that had spoken to him after their parents had left.

Except Alfred did not listen to them this time, for all his attention was on the faint rise and fall of Britannia’s ribcage.

He was alive.

Resurged energy bolted through Alfred as he shot forward and jammed his finger against Britannia’s pulse. He found it weak. Another sob threatened to escape as Alfred leant closer; the rusty smell of Britannia’s blood that filled the gymnasium made his stomach churn with each shallow inhale.

‘Britannia! Britannia, oh god. Please, please answer me. Britannia, please!’ Alfred cried out, when a clear beeping tone bounced off the grey walls. A sudden noise caused Alfred to jump and pause for a moment before his hands scrambled to locate the source. Blue eyes fell on a pocket on Britannia’s utility belt, and  his hand reached into it to retrieve a small communication device. The beeps emitted began to increase before Alfred cautiously thumbed the singular button, half expecting the device to explode from the urgency of it’s frantic frequency.

‘H-hello?’ He stammered with a hoarse throat, and was answered by tense silence.

‘Who is this, and why do you have Britannia’s communicator?’ The deep voice on the other end slowly growled.

Alfred shivered at the unspoken threat that lay beneath the question. ‘I-it’s Columbia. He- Britannia, he’s— he’s hurt real bad.’ He croaked. Understatement of the century.

‘Britannia, is he conscious? Can he speak?!’

Alfred glanced down to Britannia, whose blood pool had now expanded to the extent that it reached his knelt knees; staining the navy blue fabric of his suit. He gulped down the bile scaling up his thorax. ‘No. No— he, he got slashed o-on his back. He’s losing allot of blood.’

An explosive clatter of metal and glass erupted from the speaker, causing Alfred to wince and when the voice spoke again, it was hard as gravel.

‘Carefully move Britannia out of sight outdoors. I’ll be at your location in three minutes.’

‘Wait!,’ Alfred cried before he could end the call. ‘I don’t know who you are.’

‘Allistor Kirkland.’ The voice curtly barked over the sound of a key in the ignition, and cut the call, giving Alfred alone to follow his instructions as a soldier was expected to follow his commander’s.

* * *

 Spades District, 221 Baker’s Street, The Kirkland Penthouse.

‘Get him inside! On the table!,’ Allistor Kirkland yelled as he kicked open the front doors to his family’s penthouse and then the door to his med room. Alfred charged past him, Britannia’s body steadily growing colder limp in his arms; fat gouts of blood splattered to the floor after them. ‘Reina! Call Seamus and Dylan!’

As gently as he could with violently trembling limbs, Alfred lay Britannia down on the steel operating table central of the med room; a massive spotlight hung beyond the station whilst impeccably clean glass cabinets of bottles and counters of medical instruments lined the sterile room. Allistor Kirkland marched in with the professional decisiveness of a master and nodded to the metal fridge that was behind Alfred.

‘Get me an XXL bag of blood on the top shelf and a morphine pack from the bottom,’ Allistor ordered as he pulled on a set of latex surgery gloves, and picked up a pair of scissors to cut away the tattered rips of fabric that had once been the back of Britannia’s suit. Now apparently a qualified nurse, Alfred gulped down the lump in his throat and forced himself to move as instructed.

‘Hang them on the IV drip, and then turn around.’

‘Why?’ Alfred dazedly heard himself ask as he hung the plastic bags. A humming sound filled the small room as Allistor turned on the respirator installed below the operating table and took out it’s connected clear oxygen mask.

‘Because I need to remove Britannia’s mask.’ Allistor snapped at him, and Alfred turned his back. Despite the horrific circumstance, the temptation to peek was all too real. There was the sound of shuffling as the masks were exchanged.

‘Right. Now I need you to drag over that trolley with that bottle of antiseptic, sponge and cloth on it.’ Allistor directed again, pointing to appropriate cart resting in the corner when Alfred turned back around.

Britannia now wore the half face oxygen mask, revealing a golden globe of chopping locks and a strip of white cloth had been laid across his eyes to conceal them. Dual needles linked to the bags that Alfred had hung had been inserted into a vein in his arm, and the respirator rattled with every strained breath he told. The built in heart monitor softly, but slowly _beeped!_

‘HEY!’ Allistor shouted with a snap of his fingers, wrenching Alfred out of his stillness. ‘I need you to focus, every second counts here!’

‘R-right!’ Alfred stuttered, his feet scuffled in clumsiness before finding themselves again, and brought over the trolley. The second it was within reach, Allistor grabbed the folded cloth and spread it to completely cover the length of Britannia’s back; immediate patches of dark red blossomed where it touched.

‘You’re going to want to hold him down for this next part.’ Allistor warned darkly as he unstoppered the antiseptic, the grimacing smell of disinfectant flooding the room. Alfred had a second to anchor Britannia’s shoulders and hips before Allistor tipped the bottle over.

Alfred nearly lost his grip as Britannia thrashed in agony as the sterilising liquid soaked into his back through the cloth. The American bit down on his lip as he forced himself to hold on, moisture built in the corner’s of his eyes as Britannia spluttered and whimpered between the breaks of his screams as wave after wave of assaulting pain crashed down on him.

This…Alfred could have never even imagined it: Britannia, who was collectively agreed to be the most skilled, most powerful, most badass vigilante, writhing broken. His hero, Alfred's idol, was actually capable of weakness.

There and then, as he held him and Allistor began to stitch back together the flayed flaps of skin, Alfred Jones saw clearly. Britannia was no longer some far off star he could never hope to reach. He was, and always had been, human; a remarkable one yes, but inarguably, a human nonetheless.

The Angel bled the same as everyone else did.

Silently, Alfred swore to himself that he would never allow Britannia to suffer this way again. No one would ever hurt him to way, not as long as Alfred still drew breath…

Allistor’s sigh brought him back, and Alfred blinked to see that the stitching was neatly done (the vague memory of Arthur saying to him that Allistor was a surgeon coming back).

Britannia was still. The heart monitor’s beeps and the respirator’s rattles, regular. After carefully cutting the thread, the eldest Kirkland brother dropped the bloody needle into a bowl in the sink behind him. He peeled off the latex gloves drenched in red, tossing them into the small bin by the door before he examined the monitors and IV drip.

Once finished fiddling with the drip rate of the morphine, Allistor gave out a heavy relieved sigh and slumped onto the metal stool beside the sink, wiping away the sweat from his brow that trickled down; exhausted.

‘He’s stable,’ He panted, his voice cracked at the end, ‘he’s stable.’

The temperature of the room finally began to die and the stone that had formed in Alfred’s gut dissolved. A choked laugh escaped from his lips as the tears formed in the corners of his eyes, finally broke free. Alfred sniffed with a wobbly smile as he moved his goggles onto his forehead (that was also drenched in sweat) to swipe them away. A tissue box appeared in his peripheral, and Alfred nodded gratefully to Allistor as he took one. He blew his nose loudly as the other watched him with a raised thick brow.

‘Honestly, I never imagined that we would meet again like this,’ Allistor mused, a knowing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Alfred frowned, before he realised his awful slip: his goggles were still resting on his forehead.

His identity was blown.

‘I—’ Alfred’s mind scrambled for any excuse, but was cut off when Allistor raised a hand for silence.

‘Now that the most urgent matter is resolved, I will speak first. My name is Allistor Kirkland, and I, alongside Seamus and Dylan are the Britannia Angel’s coordinating and support team. This apartment is our base of operations and has technology, weaponry and features built into it all designed for Britannia. This med room a prime example.

Everyone in this household are highly trained combatants with skill sets that you couldn’t dream of possessing, skill sets that, if you were to ever threaten our peace, would be used to destroy you without mercy.’

After he’d finished, Alfred wished he had had a stool to collapse onto to. Instead, he gripped onto the nearest counter ledge. His mind was having difficulty processing it allm coupled with the shock of losing his secret identity. Questions raced through his mind a mile a minute, but there was one that left his tongue before thought could catch it.

‘Arthur—’

‘Yes, but not quite the same as the rest of us. Whilst he is trained and close with Britannia, Arthur is not part of the team. His reasons for why are personal and his own.’ Allistor answered, and Alfred gave out a pent up breath, feeling a confused blend of relief and slight jealousy; relieved that he wasn’t putting himself in the danger that came with hero work; jealous that Allistor had described him and Britannia as close. Just exactly how ‘close’ were they?

‘You look like you have more questions.’ Allistor offered with a soft smile, and Alfred rubbed his hands together before pressing them over his eyes.

‘Yeah, a ton, but I mean— Jeez where to start y’know?’ He breathlessly laughed and Allistor mirrored it.

‘No need to rush anything lad. Though, I would like to hear your story as well,’

Alfred pressed his lips together, when there was a thunder of fists that threatened to break down the front door. Allistor pushed himself out of his stool and shuffled around the table. He clapped a hand on Alfred’s shoulder as he passed.

‘But first, let’s reassure my brothers that Britannia isn’t dead.’

* * *

 Ten years ago, Japan, Tokyo.

Arthur winced as he brought his bō staff up with both hands to block, the collision of wood on wood rocketed a jar down his already shaking arm. His mother’s face was neutral as she began to push down, forcing Arthur to bend down under the strain. The young Brit gritted his teeth, sweat plastering his bangs to his forehead as his back curved, ready to collapse when the pressure was gone. His mother spun her staff, and in one fluid motion, swept Arthur’s ankles out from under him and jabbed the end into his exposed abdomen.

He cried out as he was slammed against the training mat, spread eagle on his back as his mother masterfully flourished the weapon before holding it out to be taken by one of the dojo’s attendees.

The dojo of paper and wood was silent save for Arthur’s heavy pants that filled the semi open space; the cold crisp air of the snowy mountain air wafted in between the sliding screens. Traditional kanji scrolls lined the walls above the display stands that held katana blades and other ninjutsu weapons, and in front of them sat on provided cushions, Arthur’s three elder brothers watched his sparring match alongside the attendees with bald heads and yellow robes.

His mother, Victoria, stared down at Arthur with critical amber eyes before she looked over to her stepchildren, not a golden hair out of place. ‘Who can tell me what Arthur did wrong?’ She asked aloud.

‘Too slow!’ Dylan answered with a skyward stretched hand.

‘He thought he had a chance against you.’ Seamus smirked, and gave a squeak when he got boxed on the ears.

‘His footwork was off, leaving his lower half exposed.’ Allistor corrected with a glare at his brothers. Victoria gave a curt nod before turning back to Arthur, now back on his feet rubbing his stomach. It was bad enough that his mother’s taxing spartan styled training left his body battered and bruised, but the added humiliation of his watching brothers made it all the more worse.

‘Quite right Allistor, proving that once again, Arthur hasn’t been paying attention in lessons,’ His mother frowned, and Arthur knew better than to make a scene; one of the first lessons she had taught him was disciple. Instead, he kept his eyes glued to the floor and eventually heard his mother sigh. ‘Allistor, Seamus, Dylan, one lap around the compound. Go.’

The respective boys immediately rose and filed out of the room, exiting onto the wooden porch that ran out into the snow covered zen gardens. Victoria raised a hand of dismissal and the other attendees followed suit, leaving her and Arthur alone. Arthur gulped around the lump that had formed his throat as he felt his mother’s eyes bore into him.

‘Arthur—’

‘I’m sorry! It wouldn’t happen again.’ Arthur cried and bent over low, only now aware of how his fists trembled. The mistake had been ridiculously stupid of him, and shame kept his head bowed.

When no answer came, Arthur minimally raised his head, and blinked when he felt a tender hand cup his cheek and tilt it up. His mother’s face had lost the hardness it had had whilst training with him, and so rarely let slip away. The emotive tenderness that softened her gaze as it met his was the kind that she reserved solely for him and his father. Victoria traced the light dusting of freckles that painted his cheek with her thumb.

‘My child…what ales you?’ She asked quietly, and a shiver rode down Arthur’s spine. How could he possibly put it into words?

‘Nothing, Mother,’ Arthur replied as silently as she had with an averted gaze. A run around the freezing compound seemed vastly more appealing than admitting failure to the one person who believed in him most. He knew how high she had her standards for him, well above those she held for Allistor, Seamus and Dylan; they were all her sons, but Arthur was the only one who carried her blood.

‘My head isn’t with me today.’

‘Arthur, please—’

‘Ma’am, pardon the intrusion but she insisted—’ A high voice exclaimed just before the door connecting to the rest of the manor was pulled open, and a woman strode in; a horde of protesting attendees at her heels. The woman was tall and voluptuous under her cameo kevlar armour, her hair was bobbed and platinum blonde with arms that were tree trunks. Her heavy combat boots boomed throughout the previously quiet dojo, and the hard mask was instantly back on Victoria’s face. Her hand dropped from Arthur’s cheek and moved to subtly move him behind her, placing herself between him and this newcomer.

‘Maria,’ His mother greeted, her tone bright and friendly, though her squared jaw suggested otherwise. ‘What brings you here?’

The woman, Maria, cast a surveying scan about the room and raised an eyebrow. ‘Business, Victoria. Private business.’ She said with a pointed look back at the furious crowd she had drawn. Arthur watched as his mother dismissed the resentful attendees, and tightened his hold on his bō when the woman Maria approached them.

When the doors finally shut, Maria glanced down at him. An unspoken statement in her suggestive look.

‘He stays.’ Victoria stated without negotiation.

‘Талантливый сын, я полагаю?’ The talented son, I suppose? Maria remarked in Russian, and Arthur narrowed his eyes at her. Victoria placed a hand on his shoulder, almost as though she read his mind.

‘И свободно говорит по-русски.’ And fluent in Russian, She rebuked in his defence. Arthur felt smug when he saw surprise skim across her face.

‘I see…I will report it back to my brother. I know he takes great interest in his progress.’ Maria smoothly replied, switching back to English.

A dangerous glint flashed against Victoria’s eyes and the hand on Arthur’s shoulder tightened it’s grip. ‘Quite. I’ve changed my mind, we will talk business in my room. Arthur, you will mediate alone for today.’

Nothing to be done, Arthur watched as his mother left with the rude Maria woman. Arthur stared down at his knuckles that were white on his bō from gripping it so hard, before lowering himself to sit with his legs crossed, and closed his eyes.

When Arthur next opened them, he was in a meadow of colourful flowers. Warm sunlight shone from above in a clear sky and from it’s golden rays, spritely fae lights emerged to dance towards him. Arthur giggled as they zipped around him, tickling his nose and ears.

These were the quaint delights that filled his mindscape, his Wonderland where he was able to dream and experiment with reality as he pleased. Mother thought that he was only able to access it through deep mediation, but it was easier than that for Arthur. Wonderland (or Fourth dimension as his mother sometimes named it as) came easily to him, so much so that there were times of the day when he sworn that he could see parts of Wonderland manifest itself in the real world; flowers and green would bloom in impossible places, reflections would have delayed reactions or be different entirely.

Mother had told him that they were special, that they were part of the fantastical one percent; they were Lucid, completely aware and awake to all and every dimension. Their minds worked differently from others, and they could train them to converge the dimensions together to manipulate the laws that bound them. The result of Bleeding was solely unique to each person who was Lucid, and never truly replicable; a crafted style, as it were.

This was the real purpose behind Arthur and his mother’s mediation sessions; for Arthur to refine his style, one that was as flexible and powerful as Victoria’s own weapon summoning one. On the day he had turned ten, Arthur was proudly able to say that he had it: Magic. His mother had been as pleased as anything, and Arthur had never felt prouder.

After the breakthrough, Victoria had nearly always accompanied him into the fourth dimension to encourage the refinement process. A process, that was exasperating, as it was amazing.

See, Arthur’s magic worked by a set of intangible rules, and Arthur would only be granted a flash of them when he came to use them in the real world; as though someone were holding out a book with all the rules written down for him to read, only when he came to actually focus on it, they would snap it shut. Some elements of his magic came naturally with minimal Bleeding such as his telepathy and pyrokinesis, while others had him straining.

There was one solid rule of Bleeding that his mother warned him about every time: never try to manipulate your own body’s shape; it may never return to what it once was. There were other rules that she hadn’t taught him yet, and thus she would always try to keep a tight hold on what Arthur did while in the fourth dimension, but well…

‘When the cat’s away,’ Arthur impishly grinned to himself when a sudden breeze swept through his meadow, rustling the long grass as it skimmed through. The young Brit looked around with wide eyes.

‘Hello?’ He called out. ‘Is someone there?’

There was a moment of silence before the grass rustled again.

‘Hello?’ An indivisible speaker echoed back, and Arthur scanned the field for them, lingering along the edge of the tree line. Was it another creation like his faeries?

‘Where are you? Come out!’ Arthur exclaimed, and smiled when he saw a shimmery humanoid outline appear at the edge of his meadow, in the shadows under the trees. ‘Over here!’

The outline hesitated, before it took it’s first step forward. Bluebells and dandelions bowed as it approached. Arthur gave it a toothy grin as it’s outline became clearer, its shape no longer mirage-like but substantial and defined; darker in colour so that it resembled a shadow. It was a creature of Wonderland! A new friend he could learn from!

‘What is your name?’ Arthur politely asked and frowned when the shadow did not move.

Hm, a different approach was in order.

‘It is alright if you are shy. Why, um, why don’t we get to know one another over some tea.’ He continued and finished with a clap of his hands. Immediately, a long elegantly clothed table appeared at the centre of the flowered meadow. Cushioned chairs bordered the table’s length and delightful delicacies such as creme puffs, turkish delight, strawberries and cream, all plated on fine china decorated it. Lilac, baby blue and white tea sets doted between the tea time treats.

Arthur reached out and took the shadow’s hand to lead it over to the head of the table, where a high backed arm chair sat. Gently, he lowered the shadow into the plush seat before taking the one directly to his right. Once sat, he selected one of the many streaming pots and poured them each a cup.

‘Here,’ Arthur offered as he pressed it into the shadow’s hand and held up his own; pinky extended. ‘Now, we toast as fellow gentleman. Cheers!’

The shadow looked down to the filled cup it’s hand, and then to the wondrous boy who had given it to him, who had done what no one else ever had; seen him, given him a face, an identity. Shakily, as a babe taking it’s first steps, it moved it’s lips to mimic the expression on the boy’s face.

‘Cheers.’ It echoed and tapped their cups together.


	9. Good Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has over 14 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading ahead, it's posted there under the same name.
> 
> Want to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or want to ask me a question or send a prompt?  
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 Terra City, Spades District, The Kirkland Residence.

Alfred Jones awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fidgety under the astounded stares of Dylan and Seamus Kirkland; the two auburn haired brothers sat on the apartment’s cream horseshoe party sofa with slack jaws while he stood at the front below the plasma TV, their eyes locked onto the white star emblemed on his navy suit. Allistor stood over by the dining table, a soft smile of encouragement lingering on his face when Alfred had began his story to the three. Dylan and Seamus hadn’t said a word throughout it, only stare.

Before he had even started though, he had called Matthew and introduced him to the Kirklands as his coordinator…Matthew had not been happy of this development, yelling at Alfred for exposing himself before Allistor had stepped in and explained the entire situation. His twin had remained quiet after that, and had stayed it throughout Alfred’s speech; the irritated bitter kind. Alfred feared for the storm that would come when the Kirklands were out of earshot.

Silence drew out long after he had finished and Alfred’s tongue was barren, swearing that the room had somehow been drained of oxygen. He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat and his pupil’s darted quickly between his audience, unsure how to continue, when Seamus gave out a deafening roar of a laugh.

‘Bloody hell, ain’t this something! You’re actually him. You’re actually Columbia!’ He grinned and Alfred offered his own sheepish one, immensely glad they hadn’t taken badly to the news.

Dylan regarded him with interest and pursued his lips. ‘Colour me impressed. It mustn’t have been easy, doing the whole hero gig with only the two of you. But I have to ask Alfred, how did you manage to fund your gear? I designed Britannia’s suit and equipment, I know how expensive it is to do so.’

Alfred felt his stomach drop into his feet and squared his jaw. Dylan had tread onto a sensitive topic, one he didn’t want to discuss. But on the other hand, if Alfred was being honest with himself, actually talking about being Columbia relieved some weight he hadn’t realised he had been carrying. It felt good to share a secret that only Matthew had previously known, and if he was going to share it, he was going to share it all.

‘When Matt’s and mine parents…disappeared, I was in a bad place. We needed money so I— I participated in underground cage matches. No rules, no health and safety, no nice paramedics on the side if you hit too hard. Most people broke quick, and there were… there were some matches where I would literally have to fight for my life.’

All eyes were still anchored on him, but now, they were wide with horror. Make no mistake, the Kirklands were not unaware of the brutality and danger of the underworld. Hell, since they had been kids, they had learnt how to live in it. But that was what made all the difference; they had had Victoria Kirkland to train and guard them against the worst of that darkness, Alfred hadn’t. Alfred had been normal, an innocent citizen who had been driven down under through sheer desperation.

‘How old were you?’ Seamus asked with a softness that questioned whether he truly wanted to know the answer.

Alfred bit the inside of his cheek. ‘Sixteen. A lot of sick bastards paid big to see a kid in the ring.’ He gingerly confessed, and the brothers visibly recoiled at the image.

‘Jesus,’ Allistor hissed. ‘I’m so sorry lad.’

Alfred gave a half heartened shrug. It was a faded scar now, he had moved on. ‘Well, y’know. Hey, I at least learnt how to defend myself. My coach, he—he was a good guy.’ He stammered, his tongue swelling up like a balloon again.

‘Was?’ Dylan frowned.

‘He- he died helping me get out when I was in too deep.’ Alfred shivered and wrapped his arms over each other; keen to change the direction of the conversation. The brothers took the initiative and Seamus cleared his throat loudly.

‘So Columbia, super strength huh?’

Alfred gave a huff of a laugh and breezily shook his head. ‘Man, I’ve had it since I was born. I never even knew it was considered super until I punched down a concrete wall in a fight. Matt was the only one who knew.’

‘And you’re sure you aren’t Lucid?’ Allistor questioned and Alfred shook his head.

‘No way dude. I’ve never been able to do anything on the levels that Britannia and that kid who attacked the school can do.’

‘Talking of that kid, was he the one who tore up Britannia?’ Seamus asked directly to Alfred.

Alfred gave a half shrug. ’I— I dunno. Honestly, the last time I saw them, they were fighting and the kid slammed Britannia into the gymnasium.’

‘That would explain the heavy bruising on Britannia’s back,’ Allistor growled, his expression dark. ‘There was also dark bruising around his neck. The little fuck must of strangled him.’

A violent chill rode down Alfred’s spine, sending rippling goosebumps over his flesh. That kid, he strangled Britannia? As his stomach churned, Allistor’s stare bore into his.

‘Alfred, is there anything else you remember? Anything at all?’ He said and Alfred dropped his gaze to the floor as he struggled to recall, when he suddenly remembered an oddity that his panic-ridden brain hadn’t properly registered.

‘When I found Britannia, there was a giant cat skeleton near him.’

‘A cat? Gimme your goggles and I’ll see if I can play the video feedback.’ Dylan offered and Alfred handed them over. The second youngest brother pulled his laptop onto his knees and set to work to connect the device together with a mess of wires.

‘Yeah, a cat. It was huge and there was—there was a lot of blood. I think Britannia had managed to kill it, but that was what could of clawed him.’ Alfred clarified and there was a clear beep as the TV turned on to show the footage captured by Columbia’s goggle camera. Dylan dragged his mouse to rewind the video, the scenes flashing in reverse order, and Alfred winced at the still fresh memory of believing Britannia to be dead.

Allistor made a thoughtful noise as he drew closer to climb over the sofa and sit beside Seamus. ‘Could the wee bastard have summoned this beast?’

Alfred watched as they got to the point when he had donned his suit and had ran back towards the gym. The hallways of wandering students and vines skimmed past as though they were playing a first person shooter. ‘No, plants were the kid’s deal. He could control them with his brain or some junk.’

‘Then where did the bloody cat come from then?’ Seamus exclaimed just as they watched as Alfred burst into the gym of carnage. It was as Alfred had described, and over by where Britannia lay face down, was undeniably a skeleton of a gigantic cat. All of them narrowed their eyes as Dylan zoomed and enhanced the image.

‘Definitely not something of this world,’ Dylan stated, before his eyebrows shot up. ‘uh-oh.’

‘Uh-oh? What ‘uh-oh’?’ Allistor demanded and Dylan said nothing, but tapped at his keyboard to bring up what he had read. A digital scan of a police report on the incident appeared to overlap the video image, with the highlighted words among the text: an unidentifiable body of a child was found in the gymnasium without his head.

The room swayed around Alfred as he desperately tried to remember seeing the boy when he had entered the gym, but all he could think of was the all consuming grief at seeing Britannia laying in a pool of blood.

‘Here.’ Dylan quietly announced and brought up the boy’s autopsy report: male, estimated nine years old. Estimated time of death, between one o’clock and half one. Body showed signs of bruising and abuse. Cause of death: decapitation; the special notes read that the neck break was made by no tool, the tear of the skin and fracture of bone was jagged and uneven, akin to the marks made by an animal attack.

‘Pictures.’ Allistor requested, and no one breathed when they appeared on screen. It was as Alfred had seen it, save the exception of missing sleeping students. There was blood everywhere, and Alfred could see the smears where he had knelt and moved Britannia; an trail of red footprints led out of the doors outside into the car park. Surrounded by yellow and black police tape, the boy attacker’s corpse lay only a short distance away from where Britannia had collapsed, indeed headless, but that was not what made Alfred gasp aloud.

‘The cat’s skeleton, it’s gone!’

‘What?’ Allistor hissed but Seamus nodded in agreement.

‘No, he’s right. There’s nothing there where we had seen it.’ The Irish man confirmed and Dylan toggled the screen so that the images were side by side. A twisted spot the difference, with the cat’s skeleton clearly gone in the TPD’s crime scene pictures. There was a morbid beat of a pause.

‘Okay, so what does this mean?’ Alfred broke the awful silence and looked to Allistor to see his jaw square.

‘It means that there was a third party involved. Someone, or something, Lucid attacked Britannia.’ He affirmed grimly and Alfred turned back to screen.

‘Can’t we— I dunno, pull up Britannia’s feed and find out what happened?’

‘That was the first thing I tried. No luck, the data was corrupted. It happens sometimes when Britannia uses extraneous amounts of his magic.’ Dylan shot down.

Alfred’s disappointment subsided with the memory of the fantastical sword he had seen Britannia sword. He would never forget that image soon. ‘He did summon this bad-ass powerful sword. Cut through everything like it was butter, and it could shoot out these crazy light waves! Excalibur, I think he called it,’ Alfred rabbled, when he realised that the Kirklands were deadpan staring at him. ‘What?’

‘Excalibur? He summoned Excalibur?’ Seamus cried and Alfred looked around was a raised questioning eyebrow; lost.

The Scot sighed. ‘It’s only his most powerful weapon in his magic arsenal. Poor laddie, must have been desperate to summon it.’

‘I hate this,’ Dylan muttered, ‘Not knowing what is going on.’

Allistor leant right and clapped him on the back. ‘That makes three of us, but right now, we have to focus on the plan. As soon as he can walk, Britannia will want to spring it.’

‘Spring what?’ Alfred inquired and the three brothers shared a guarded look. A lightbulb lit up for Alfred when he recalled his and Britannia’s argument on the beach the night before. ‘He’s going after Doctor Edelstein’s research, isn’t he? Britannia’s going to try to break into Nova labs.’

There was another beat of pause before Seamus scoffed. ‘Busted.’

‘You can’t be serious’ Matthew rebuked, breaking his stubborn silence and Allistor cracked his knuckles.

‘Aye, we are plenty serious. In fact, we’ve got everything pretty much figured. Except for one thing…’

Dylan tapped a button and a holographic blueprint appeared above the glass coffee table. Allistor got off the sofa and took a step forward, and Alfred felt the air take a dramatic shift. The Scot had such an authoritative aura about him (that Alfred had already felt when he had acted as a nurse under him) that it made the American naturally want to listen.

‘This,’ Allistor gestured to the hologram, ‘is the internal structure of Nova labs. Five tier building, three above ground, two below, only accessible by elevator.’

He gave Dylan a nod and with a few clicks, he made the hologram rotate and zoom in on the second level; connected to the hallway that the core elevator arrived at, was what looked like a garage door. Allistor pointed to it.

‘Now, that, there is the kicker. IMT Max security vault door. Made from titanium and steel, it weighs in at 2,700kg, or 2 tons. The same weight as an elephant. The door cannot be hacked in the little time Britannia will have.’

‘How do you plan to get him in there then?’ Matthew sneered.

‘Well, we were originally going to have Britannia try to cut through with a high powered drill, but now,’ Allistor crossed his arms, before looking suggestively at Alfred, ‘I think there’s a better way in.’

Alfred stared back blankly for a full minute, before his jaw dropped. He pointed to himself as though Allistor had been mistaken.

‘Me?!’

‘What?!’ Matthew’s, Seamus’ and Dylan’s cries all came shortly after. Allistor rolled his eyes.

‘Unless anyone else in this room has super strength.’ He smirked sarcastically and all at once, everyone in an uproar.

‘You’re actually implying—!’

‘It’s brilliant!’

‘There is no way Alfred would be able to lift that much!’ Matthew protested the loudest and Alfred took that as a blow to his pride as Columbia. Allistor’s confidence, was undiminished.

‘Not without proper training he won’t.’

‘You can’t just ask him to break into private property!’ Matthew persisted, and Alfred knew it was time to step in.

He totally got that what Allistor was asking him to do was illegal, and he knew that heroes didn’t break the law. But really, when you stepped back to look at the larger picture; Alfred would be assisting in Britannia’s efforts to track down the missing neuroscientists. They just had to a little bad to do a lot of good. And, if Alfred was being true to his feelings, this was the chance he had been dreaming of since becoming Columbia; the once in a lifetime chance to be at Britannia’s side as a partner, to have his back when things got rough.

‘It’s okay Matt. I want to help,’ He reassured and could practically feel his twin’s scowl of disapproval. ‘And if this is what it takes to find the missing scientists, then so be it.’

He heard a sigh of defeat over the line and Seamus beamed at him. ‘Well said! Well said!’

‘Aye! Glad to have you on board laddie!,’ Allistor grinned before his tone turned serious. ‘and I hate to cut the happy moment short, but if you’re going to lift that door, we’re going to have to start your training right away.’

‘Which programme are you going to use?’ Dylan asked over his screen.

‘Heracles.’ Allistor answered without missing a beat and Alfred felt his gut twist when he saw Seamus and Dylan grimace. Uh-oh.

‘Good luck. You’re gonna need it.’ Seamus pitied with a sympathetic look that told Alfred he was not going to be in for a easy time.

Allistor cleared his throat loudly and clapped his hands once for attention. ‘Alright boys, time to get to work. Dylan, now that Britannia has Columbia with him on the field, work with Williams to adjust the plan accordingly. Seamus, check in with Reina on Britannia’s progress and then prep Britannia’s other suit and get the rest of the gear together. Alfred, follow me downstairs. We begin immediately.’

* * *

 Seven Years Ago, Russia, The Central Siberian Plateau.

…  
..  
.  
A-…..

………Arthur!  
HMPF!

Arthur Kirkland’s eyes snapped open, dazed and still half asleep. The world swam around him in an unfocused swarm of blended dark colours. What? Where was he? Above him, a dark shape loomed above him, pining his wrists against his chest. An attack!

’N-no!’ Arthur choked as he thrashed against the grip of his attacker, crunching his body into a jackknife to throw them. His attacker gave a grunt before redoubling his efforts.

‘Arthur! Arthur, calm down! It’s me, it’s Seamus!’ The shape cried, and Arthur blinked up at him furiously to have his elder brother’s face tune into focus. Seamus stared back down at him, and only when Arthur regained control of his breathing, did he release his hold on his wrists. Slowly, his chest still heaving, Arthur pushed himself up to sitting in his bunk and shot out an arm to catch himself when a groan of metal and a shuddering jolt threatened to throw him out.

Arthur’s bearings returned to him. He was travelling in an arctic Military Humvee, equipped with tank Mattracks treads for snowbound cross-country and camouflaged to match. While he slept on one of the two double bunks, Seamus beside him, his mother and eldest big brother sat up front, shotgun and driver respectively. The creaking interior space was cramped but clean (Victoria did not tolerant to anything other than militaristic discipline in her pride) and the powerful engine constantly rumbled as it carried it’s passengers across the unforgiving winter plains of Russia.

‘Bloody hell, is your head screwed on now?’ Seamus huffed as he sat down heavily on the opposite bunk and looked his brother up and down. Like all of them, he was fitted in his black thermal suit and snow boots.

‘Maybe you shouldn’t of tried to wake me like that when you knew I was mediating.’ Arthur argued with a glare as he swung his still booted feet off the side of the bunk to mirror Seamus’ posture.

‘Arthur, I’d been trying to wake you for the past five minutes. When I thought I was getting somewhere, you started speaking in tongues!’ Seamus hissed back and jumped when a auburn head swung out from the bunk above Arthur.

‘Arthur’s speaking tongues?!’ Dylan exclaimed loudly and drew out a hiss from Arthur when his mother’s head snapped back to them from the passenger’s seat.

‘What?’ Victoria demanded as she unbuckled herself out the seat and waded her way to stand in the archway connecting to the back. Her eyes narrowed as they alternated between the three Kirklands.

‘What ‘tongues’?’ She asked again with bite and after a moment, Seamus reached into his pocket and withdrew a voice recorder. When he handed it over, Arthur shot him a look of betrayal even as his mother shot him one before she clicked the play button.

‘Hatetr. Hatetr, I dno’t wnat to paly any lgeonr. Og em tel!’ Arthur heard his own voice slur, and felt his stomach drop when he saw an unbridled fury harden on his mother’s face that the gibberish.

‘Allistor pull over. Now.’ Victoria growled and grabbed Arthur by the arm with a vice grip to yank him upright.

‘Ma’am?’ Allistor questioned as he cut the engine and the Humvee slowed to a stop. The second it did, Victoria dragged Arthur towards the door, opened it and then threw her son outside into the snow.

Arthur stumbled to find his feet and immediately assaulted by violent shivers as the subzero wind cut through him to the core. They had stopped alongside a dense pinewood forest, a desolate timber mill on the border. From the overhead dark grey clouds, fat clumps of snowflakes fell and made it difficult to see beyond about five feet. His mother emerged from the Humvee as a wrathful goddess, the cream of her skin luminous against the radiant gold mane of her hair.

‘Who. Is. Hatter?’ She snarled as she advanced on Arthur, who could not help but cringe away at her ferocity. From the Humvee, Dylan, Seamus and Allistor watched with furrowed brows; they knew better than to get between her and Arthur when she went into terminator mode.

‘What?’ Arthur squeaked under her painful grip when she grabbed him by the shoulders, and suppressed a cry when she shook him hard.

‘You said ‘Hatter, I don’t want to play any longer. Let me go’. Also I’ll ask again, who is Hatter?’ Victoria interrogated, the innate maternal need to protect her child manifesting as fire behind her amber eyes.

Arthur’s brain scrambled for an answer. Let me go? Was that what he had said? In the three years since they had met Hatter- Hatter had always been kind to him. He had helped Arthur push the limits of what he had thought possible with his magic. He had helped him create Excalibur, they had built Wonderland together. Had Hatter been forcibly keeping him under? Why would he?

‘H-He’s my friend,’ Arthur stuttered, unable to think of anything else. ‘He helps me with my magic.’

His mother’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s…not possible Arthur. Our abilities are exclusively unique. There is no one alive who could mimic your magic.’

Arthur reflective recoiled, and immediately regretted it when he saw his mother’s horrified face. ‘Arthur.’ She cautioned.

‘Hatter he- isn’t technically alive.’ Arthur muttered while looking to the ground, when a pitched howl turned all eyes to the forest.

Victoria’s hand had already unsheathed her blade before the wolf’s howl could finish. Even as she pivoted with fluidity to place herself between Arthur and line of trees, she heard the growl of the Humvee’s ignition over the rushed cocking of guns. Behind her, Arthur caught a thrown pistol and wordlessly pressed it into her freehand.

She checked it’s magazine for the bullet count and held it over the blade when she heard Arthur gasp. ‘Someone’s coming out of the mill.’ He warned, and Victoria glanced over to see that his vision was keen. A figure trudged through the snow towards them. From what Victoria could gather, it was a young man with his features disguised by the heavy snowfall; his form was hunched forward against the wind with his head down.

‘Orders, Ma’am.’ Allistor called over from the driver’s window, the foxglove’s spare semiautomatic extended out and aimed on the figure.

‘Hold.’ Victoria barked and whipped back towards the treelike when a chorus of growls rippled from a pack of wolves that emerged from the trees; grizzled snouts pulled back to reveal slobbering yellow fangs.

‘Of course. Of course there are bloody wolves.’ Dylan snarked from behind her and Victoria heard the familiar clicks of safety locks being thumbed back. Her own gun never wavering from the canines, Victoria kept her face professionally neutral and her eyes shifted to the young man when he slowed to a stop about five feet away from them.

The boy looked like death. His skin, bloodless and so dry that it cracked and flaked away in large shreds. His eyes, bulbous with no pupil nor iris; a fermented moon reflected on a dead lake. Dark lines of thick blood trailed down from the corners of them and more from it’s chapped blue lips and nostrils.

‘Stay behind me,’ Victoria ordered to her son before she turned her gun on the demented being. ‘Not another step stranger!’

The stranger swayed on it’s feet, and Victoria resisted the chills that ran down her spine when she realised what was truly causing them. Not the morbid, undead appearance, but rather where should of been the man’s flaming consciousness, was nothing; nothing but an endless, starless void. By that fact, the person should be dead, and yet there it stood, moving.

A cheshire cat smile curled onto the stranger’s face, and when it held up a rotten hand, the wolves’ snarling ceased. Victoria thumbed back the safety off her pistol and aimed the barrel for the space between his eyes. A demonstration of power like that could only suggest some kind of power like that she and Arthur possessed. To say they were Lucid would be to say that they had consciousness, which Victoria knew they didn’t.

‘Who are you?’ She demanded and heard a soft crunch of underfoot snow when Arthur stepped out from behind her.

‘H-Hatter?’ Arthur breathed, and Victoria had to catch herself from reactively pulling the trigger.

‘What?!’

‘Hatter’s’ grin grew wider. ‘I’m so pleased that you were able to recognise me Arthur~,’ His voice drooled, raspy and cracking in places as though his throat were hoarse. ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t. Non-consensual vessels fall apart so quickly.’

Victoria’s blood chilled in her veins, and decided that the madness had gone on long enough.

The gunshot exploded as the bullet was spat out and impaled itself itself between the stranger’s brows; snapping his head back with a sickening crack! The smoking barrel was already being lowered when the impossible happened.

‘Ow.’ Hatter deadpanned and rightened the corpse, frostbitten fingers reached up to prod at the stream of blood and brain tissue oozing from the new bullet hole in his dying vessel. ‘Perfect. Now I have to rush this.’ He growled before fixing his venomous sights on the one who had shot him.

Victoria stood frozen, temporarily paralysed by the abandonment of all thought, and stared at the unearthly abomination; the abomination that had spent large quantities of time with her child doing god-knows-what.

‘Hatter! H-how can you be here?’ Arthur cried as he gripped onto Victoria’s arm, his own uncontrollably trembling while his breaths were erratic.

Hatter cracked his head and smiled eerily. ‘New trick love,’ He purred in an unmistakeable British accent, not unlike Arthur’s own. ‘Tell you all about it when we pick up where we left off, before we were rudely interrupted.’

Victoria felt Arthur shrink back behind her cover, and she raised her gun again. ‘He’s not going anywhere with you demon.’ She hissed and took aim. The monster, Hatter, had said that it was on a time limit after she had shot it through the skull; that implied that it’s possession could only hold if the brain was still intact, regardless if the body wasn’t. A wink of a smirk ghosted her lips. The old saying held true: if it bleeds, it can be killed.

The Hatter’s decaying face contorted into a snarl. ‘I won’t let you tear us apart. I won’t let you!’ He shrieked, and the stationary wolves sprang. As a hail of bullets let rip on the line of wolves that charged, downing several before they had even made it out of the trees, Victoria was already moving in on Hatter. To her surprise, the demon in man’s flesh moved to intercept her before she could fire another bullet, fainting left and lashed out a kick to knock the gun from her hand.

Rolling with the momentum that curled her sideways, Victoria twirled her knife into the icepick grip and leapt in a three-sixty turn to drive the blade into the prone Hatter’s left breast. The man didn’t have the courtesy to scream when she followed up with a palm strike and shoved the blade through the bastard’s ribcage with a crack into his still heart. The strike’s force, however, was enough to send him back a step, and Victoria did not permit a pause as she leapt high and tackled the body into the snow; wrenching the blade out of the gored chest and thrusting it downward to stab the leaking glutton liquid that used to be a brain through the bullet hole she had made.

Hatter gave a garbled, guttural wet laugh, a burst of blood spray from swollen lips spat in a spray against Victoria, who simply gripped and twisted the blade’s handle painfully in response. Hatter stared up at her manically.

‘And you call me a demon!’ He hysterically giggled as Victoria looked down at him with complete disgust.

‘The truth. What are you?’

A smug smile curled Hatter’s lips, and Victoria pressed down on the bloody opening that had pierced his heart to draw out a hiss from him (morbidly ironic when he had a knife in his skull).

‘Hsk-! You want to know what I am? I’m the fucking fourth dimension given thought. I’m the astral plane, the mindscape, the land of dreams. I am the Void, and I am the one that the ones like you draw your powers from! You think you’re important? That you’re special?’ The Hatter shrieked, too caught up in his speech to care if she understood him. ‘Every single one of you maggots are the same. You reach into me, and draw me out to use me, mould me in the shape of your will. Never once, did any of you ever reach out, ever try to do more than what was already set.’

Victoria doubled the pressure she applied on the Hatter’s heart. ‘What the hell does this have to do with my son?’ She hissed lowly, and felt her stomach churn when the Hatter’s face lit up in euphoria.

‘Arthur~, ah, my very reason for being. Ha— Metaphorically, and literally.’

‘What?’

Hatter smiled cruelly up at a stunned Victoria. ‘Crazy concept, isn’t it? A dimensional plane of existence being given an identity. Able to think, to comprehend self awareness. It goes against all rationality, but that’s the thing with omnipotence, if it can be thought, it’s completely possible.’

What could Victoria say? What could anyone when faced with that? Taking advantage of her stupefied state, Hatter minimally leant up and lowered his voice to a secretive tone.

‘So my dear lioness, do you understand how utterly screwed you are if you try to stand against me? Try to keep me and my beloved Arthur apart? Think you can kill a god? He is mine, as I am his, and it is only because I hold a strand of appreciation that you were the one that brought him into this world for me, that I am ready to offer you salvation.

Turn him over to me, and I will be sated to let you live out the rest of your short continuance. Refuse, and I will kill you all and drag Arthur away screaming through your blood,’

His eyes broke away from Victoria’s to lock onto something else a distance behind her. ‘Don’t worry love, I’ll never stop, I won’t falter until the ones that that try to shield you from me are dead. This I promi—’ But Hatter’s speech was cut short as the impaled knife was ripped out of his forehead and slashed across his vessel’s vocal cords. The milky eyes glinted and Hatter gave Victoria a final wink before the bloodshot orbs rolled back into the vessel’s skull.

With stiff cramped legs, Victoria climbed off the body and flicked the gore off her knife before turning to see the carnage behind her. Wolves’ caresses littered the snow, high pressure splatters and sprays of blood dirtying the purity of the white snow. The farthest away from her, Arthur was crouched over himself, his head in his hands hyperventilating. Dylan was leant beside him, rifle strapped on his back, rubbing small circles on the small of his back trying to soothe him. Allistor and Seamus stood side by side, the latter still staring horrified at the corpse whilst the former looked to Victoria with a hardened face; always the ready soldier boy.

‘What do we do?’ Allistor asked, and Victoria took several minutes to compose herself before giving her answer.

‘We move.’ She answered before marching for the Humvee, stepping over the wolf corpses, mentally skimming through her Lucid contacts who could potentially offer a solution to their problem. When she pasted Arthur, Dylan trying to coo him into standing, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him as he sobbed over and over again as a sick mantra: _He was my friend._


	10. Unexpected Arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has over 14 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading ahead, it's posted there under the same name.
> 
> Want to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or want to ask me a question or send a prompt?  
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 Unknown, Unknown, Unknown.

Arthur jerked awake with a sharp inhale, and blinked in confusion when he found himself sat at the head of the apartment’s dining table; it’s long length covered by a white lace cloth whilst all around him, huge colourful bouquets of flowers filled the living room almost suffocatingly so. Fine china cups with matching tea pots and plates with sugary pastries decorated the table amongst even more flowers; rich crystal vases of lilies, orchids, and roses. Lining the overly exaggerated table, were six plush empty chairs, three a side with a grand high backed chair at the opposite end to Arthur.

Goosebumps rippling over his flesh from the unwanted association of the last time he had sat at a tea party table, Arthur wrinkled his nose at the overpowering floral perfume of the enormous bouquets, and frowned when he was met with resistance when he tried to rise. An indivisible force like gravity forced his buttocks and legs to stay glued to his seat, his straining arms effectively pinned to the chair’s gold ones.

‘What the?’ Arthur wondered aloud and tripled his efforts against the restricting force, when to his back, he heard the front lock unlatch and swing open.

 _‘London Bridge is falling down,_  
_falling down,_  
_falling down,’_

A high, musical voice sang as their footsteps drew closer to Arthur out of his line of sight. His breath caught in his throat, Arthur recoiled when he felt a finger brush along his cheek before dropping to tap the back of each chair as it’s owner climbed their way towards the other head chair. From the back of them, Arthur could see that the singer’s hair was a choppy gold of candy gloss pink, and they wore an fanatical vest jumper and pressed cream trousers.

 _‘London Bridge is falling down,_  
_my fair lady’_

All Arthur’s curiosity about the stranger melted away to paralytic horror when green eyes met electric blue; it did not matter what colour or form they materialised as, Arthur would know them anywhere.

‘’Ello poppet,’ Hatter purred with velvet and that god-awful cheshire cat grin of his, before smoothly gesturing to his face, that was identical to Arthur’s own, and then to room overstuffed with flowers. ‘Like the new look?’

Arthur lungs forgot how to breathe. His brain how to construct thought.

No. It wasn’t-

**_No._ **

‘I must say, I am loving your’s. You’ve grown to be so very beautiful, inside and out,’ Hatter gushed and plucked a red rose from the nearest vase to take a deep sensual inhale. ‘lovely indeed.’

He had never felt more detached from his body as he had then as Arthur sat there. Numb. Petrified.

‘Arthur? Love? Aren’t you going to say anything? I’ve missed your voice very much,’ Hatter pleaded as he rose from his chair and hurried to Arthur’s side, his hands outstretched to take Arthur’s.

Arthur flinched at the contact. ‘How—’ His voice came out breathless and cracked. ’H-How…’

Hatter’s face, Arthur’s face immediately lit up and he moved to tuck a golden lock behind Arthur’s ear.

‘How? How am I here when your mother supposedly had the lot of you ‘warded’?,’ Hatter laughed as he backed up to pivot over to the window where the city skyline stretched out.

‘The answer is a simple one. See, you may be warded against my possession, but nothing can stop me from existing in your dreams. The only reason I’ve never appeared before you until now is because I’ve chosen not to,’ The madman looked over his shoulder back to Arthur with that wicked grin, ‘Couldn’t be tipping you off that I’ve been watching, could I?’

His tongue felt too large, too heavy for his mouth. His throat too tight to draw any air through. Hatter knew about it all, he had allowed them to fall into a false sense of security, only to use it as a means to spy on them. Arthur’s jaw squared, and he latched onto that spark of anger that ignited inside him. Anger was good. Anger, unlike shock, could make him think.

‘So what changed Hatter.’ Arthur heard himself retort, and was proud that he sounded stronger than he felt. Hatter’s gaze softened when Arthur spoke his name.

‘Oh, Arthur~ It is so good to hear my name from your lips again.’ He sang and pranced back to his seat. Arthur dug his fingernails into his palms, anticipating pain that he could use to focus, but there was nothing…

Of course! Hatter had said it himself. He was dreaming. All he had to do to escape the nightmare, was wake up.

‘Answer me.’ Arthur demanded with a glower, hoping to keep the dream demon distracted as he pulled together the beginnings of a plan. Hatter’s fair brows shot up at the cutting edge in his words, before a sadistic smile drew onto his face.

‘Well, well, well. Looks like a little cub is starting to test it’s roar,’ Hatter cooed as he rose out his seat once again, and began to pace towards Arthur with a glint in his eye.

‘However,’ Hatter slammed his arm out beside Arthur’s head, and leant in to possessively invade his personal space. ‘I think that you’re forgetting your position here, dearest. This is my dominion, and I am the one in charge here. So I suggest, you play nice~’

Arthur hardly dared to breathe, but he dipped down for that anger once again, and couldn’t help but smile when he felt a desired shape form in his lap. ‘Or what?,’ He challenged with all his bravo, and Hatter’s lips curled, the glint in his eye turned dangerous. ‘You won’t like me when I’m angry?’

All around them, the lush flowers began to wither and crumple to ash, cracks splintered up the china sets, and Arthur felt the room begin to shake as the Hatter’s calm control corroded; the pretty aesthetics deteriorating with the ugly souring of his mood.

‘Arthur,’ Hatter growled warningly, a shadow moved behind his electric blue orbs to darken their unnatural shade. ‘Do not ruin this moment that I have spent years preparing for.’

‘Sorry _love_ ,’ Arthur spat the word with sarcastic venom, ‘but I’ve never been one to play nice.’

Hatter stared at him before he grabbed and jerked his chin up with a grip on steel, drawing out a hiss from the Brit. There was no playfulness now.

‘Well then,’ Hatter decided with chilling coolness, a perverted leer on his lips. ‘I will take that as we’re both eager to skip the foreplay then.’

Arthur’s eyes went wide, and knew that it was now or never. The oppressing fore long gone when Hatter’s control on the room had slipped, within the space of a single second, Arthur grabbed the revolver nestled hidden on his lap, saw Hatter’s pupils shrink when he realised his intention all-too-late, and flashed him a victorious smile as he brought the barrel to the soft of his under-jaw, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

 Spades District, The Kirkland Residence, The Med Room.

Arthur Kirkland woke with a jolt, and immediately hissed as an assaulting tidal wave of pain crashed over him. At least vaguely thankful that the pain meant that he was no longer dreaming, Arthur tried to sit up when a raw scream ripped itself from his throat when the action ignited napalm across his back. Good god what happened to him?!

‘He’s awake!’ His brain barely caught in it’s haze of pain and then a stampede of footsteps around him. The napalm flames sapped at his strength, both mental and physical. His body was so heavy as it burnt.

‘Move,’ He groggily heard a voice command before he felt something pry open his eyelid and was blinded by a bright white light that moved from side to side. The lid was released and Arthur winced when there was a loud snapping noise in each ear. ‘Arthur? Can you hear me?’ The voice spoke again, and Arthur heard his dry lips omit a high whine.

‘Well?’ A different voice asked.

‘He’s responsive but disoriented. Too weak to move. Back up, give him some space.’ The authoritative voice ordered, and Arthur sighed when there was a soft beeping and a sense of weightlessness overcame him, dosing the flames and soothing them into a far off memory. His body was so light now, so light that even the gentle weight that rested over his relaxed hand felt odd.

‘Arthur? Arthur if you can understand this, could you squeeze your hand?’ The nice, strong voice asked, and it took Arthur a few seconds to process the request. Not able to manage a full squeeze, Arthur twitched his fingers, and the air was filled with sighs.

‘That’s fantastic Arthur. Now, can you do that again if you’re still in pain? A small finger twitch, just like before.’

The kind voice waited for some time, but Arthur didn’t move. He felt so good, so far away from it all.

‘Good. I’m glad for that. Okay Arthur, now I need you to listen carefully. I’m going to give you something to help you sleep, and when you wake, we are going to have a very important talk. Alright?’

Arthur twitched his fingers and heard a soft chuckle before something touched his head. It was hard to hear what the voice’s last words as he felt himself sink back into darkness.

‘Goodnight, Arthur.’

* * *

 ‘Goodnight, Arthur,’ Allistor muttered and took his hand back from resting on his little brother’s damp forehead. He turned to Reina over by the drip, switching off the low blood bag for a fresh one. ‘Watch over him.’

‘Always.’ She answered without missing a beat, and Allistor gave her a grateful nod before he followed Seamus out of the door, closing it softly behind him. Over by the staircase, Allistor saw Dylan speaking quietly to Alfred Jones, who had changed out of his bloody Columbia suit into a borrowed outfit of his. The American held the folded up suit and passed it over.

‘I’ll clean it up.’ Dylan promised and he and Alfred turned to meet Allistor’s eyes with their own, full of questions.

‘Asleep, doped up on morphine,’ Allistor reassured before they could ask. ‘He’s pulled through the worst. His back is healing well and the bruises are already darkening.’

‘Thank god,’ Dylan sighed and then glanced back to Alfred. ‘You had better go and get your stuff and coordinator before Allistor can lock you in the gym.’

‘Gotcha. See you dudes later then.’ Alfred grinned with a mock salute before he set off for the front door, and disappeared into the lift. When the resounding ding signalled he was gone, Allistor turned back to Dylan with a raised brow, reading his thoughts from the hungry way he pawed the Columbia suit.

‘Be honest. What are you gonna do to it?’ Seamus asked, beating Allistor to the punch.

Dylan shot them both a mischievous grin. ‘I’m thinking stitch in bulletproof padding, make the fabric nonflammable and acid resistant. Maybe tweak the life support and goggle sensors if Matthew will let me.’

Allistor gave him a nod. ‘I like it. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go set up the torture chamber.’ He quipped with a knowing smirk.

* * *

 Downtown Spades District, Cyan Apartments, Alfred Jones’ and Matthew William’s Apartment.

‘Matt! I’m home.’ Alfred called out as he jimmied open their stiff front door and breezed over the unlit threshold towards the kitchen. Well, if two dirty counters, a fridge and a stove could be considered a kitchen. Their apartment was pitiful when compared to the Kirkland’s penthouse Alfred had just come from; creaking pipes, electricity blackouts, hot water shortages came and went in an never-ending cycle, but it was home to Alfred. Buying it had marked his and Matthew’s first significant milestone in their new life without their parents.

The old floorboards creaked beneath Alfred’s weight as he beelined for the fridge to grab a beer before they could head back out with overnight bags and fresh clothes. His back to the busted up couch, Alfred wrenched on the fridge door and dipped down to grab one of his favourite green bottles, when he heard the cock of a gun, and felt the press of a pistol against his back.

‘Hands behind your head.’ A woman’s voice ordered, and Alfred felt his stomach churn as he complied. Robbers? He speculated whilst a hand on his shoulder forced him to turn around to face her. Alfred, again, did as he was told, and couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping at the vision before him.

The woman was drop dead gorgeous, olympic model gorgeous, with all the curves and all the muscles in all the right places. Her thick milk chocolate hair was pulled into a high knot and her narrowed eyes were a pretty brilliant green like Arthur’s (wait, what?).

‘Why don’t you drool a bit more eh?’ His brother’s voice shook him out of his daydream, and Alfred blinked to notice that Matthew was sat on the couch, a short in stature man (a mask of a white fox to disguise his face) with his hand pressing down on his shoulder behind him.

Relieved that Matthew showed no signs of injury, Alfred glanced between the two with a different kind of nervous energy.

‘Put your gun away Hungaria,’ A deep, brass voice commanded in a german accent from Alfred’s bedroom, before it’s owner stepped into view.

Just from looking at him, Alfred knew that this man was one that embodied power. Broad shouldered with hulking muscles to match, the man had eyes of blue steel; Alfred could feel himself unconsciously shrink under their razor-sharp stare. He did not wear the same black kevlar as the other two did, but instead, a prim black military uniform that wouldn’t of looked out of place in a high-ranking general’s wardrobe. ‘It is not needed for what we are here for.’

‘And what, is that exactly?’ Alfred implored with more lip than he intended, regretting it when all eyes went to him.

‘Recruitment.’ The german smiled, and Alfred’s eyes darted between the invaders with clear confusion, as ‘Hungaria’ holstered her gun.

‘What?’ Matthew vocalised both their thoughts.

‘Allow me to introduce ourselves. I am agent Germania of DIA. With me are agents Yamato,’ Germania motioned to the man over by Matthew, ‘and agent Hungaria.’ He finished with a gesture to her respectively.

‘Uh. DIA?’ Alfred asked.

‘Defence Intelligence Agency. Sister branch of FBI.’ Hungaria clarified with an amused smirk, and Alfred shared a pointed look with Matthew, their twin senses tingling as the same thought passed to one head to another: stick to the story.

‘Why would the DIA want to recruit two broke students?’ Alfred pretended to slowly string together. Perhaps if they were lucky, they’d all be able to write the night off as one big joke. Germania, however, did not looked fazed.

‘Please do not insult us. We already know who the two of you are, Columbia, Acadia. We have for some time.’

Alfred’s brows shot up and Germania waved off his alarm as he strode into the centre of the room.

‘So why haven’t we been arrested yet?’ Matthew demanded, and Hungaria gave a huff of laughter.

‘Would be a bit hard to work with you if you’re in super-max, don’t you think?’

Alfred looked back to Germania with his brow furrowed. ‘Yeah more on that please. You keep saying recruit, but recruit us into what exactly?’

‘The ‘Guardians’ initiative. A collaborative operation with the goal to form America’s first league of officially recognised superheroes.’ Germania proclaimed with evident pride, and for the second time that night, Alfred’s jaw dropped. The government— The actual men in the big house wanted Columbia to be part of some super team they were putting together. Him! Columbia!

‘Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,’ Matthew quickly protested, shoving off Yamato’s hand to rise onto his feet. Alfred received a sucker punch to the stomach when he realised how overwhelmed his brother must be feeling, having his secret life shook up not once with Britannia, but now again. ‘You broke into our apartment, threatened us with guns, all so that you could extend an invitation?’

‘I admit the guns weren’t necessary.’

‘They were necessary.’ Germania and Hungaria confessed simultaneously before Germania shot her a look and cleared his throat.

‘From their feedback, Oz and Shepherd were very impressed with the both of your performances earlier this week on the S.S.Lovecraft.’

At that,Alfred gave a bitter laugh. ‘Now that I’m calling bull on. God, not only was Doctor Edelstein kidnapped, but we weren’t even the ones to disarm the bomb. That was all the Winter Syndicate’s people!’

Hungaria made a sympathetic noise. ‘You can’t be so hard on yourselves. You’re both still young to all this. And besides, it wasn’t a complete failure. You did prevent the White Queen from kidnapping Britannia along with Edelstein, and you did hospitalise one of the Syndicate’s core members.’

‘What core member?’ He breathed.

Hungaria raised a perfect eyebrow. ‘The elder sister of the leader, General Winter. The woman you threw out of the ship’s light box. Nice touch with the door there by the way.’

Alfred’s heart kicked into overdrive in his ribcage. He had hospitalised the sister of a major crime organisation’s leader. He- he probably had a freakin’ hit on him now!

‘Oh my god, I’m dead. I am so dead.’ Alfred hyperventilated, staggering back to use the counter as support; his legs jello underneath him. He was so fucking dead, just as he had finally gotten a glimpse of his dream of being Britannia’s partner to! Fuck! The twist was just too cruel.

Hungaria stepped forward and curtly smacked him upside the head, shocking him out of his hysteria. ‘Hey! Hey! Relax! Our intelligence tells us that the Syndicate is in the steps of leaving Terra. His sister down and with Britannia the only and unpredictable lead to the White Queen, General Winter has decided to withdraw from the city. That it’s not worth the risk.’

Alfred felt his breathing slowly calm down to a controllable rate, and after a few seconds, he gulped and met Germania’s steady eye.

‘From the way you’re talking, I’m guessing that you’re not just here to recruit vigilantes. You’re following the missing neuroscientist case pretty closely, aren't cha? The White Queen, she was the one who tried to kidnap Britannia…Do you know why? Or why she's kidnapping the scientists?’

Germania’s lips pressed into a thin line, surprised by Alfred’s astute observation and deduction. ‘The White Queen is an particularly special person of interest to both ourselves, and the Winter Syndicate. She is the reason why both organisations came to Terra in the first place.

In regards to her motives for her abducting the neuroscientists, our current hypothesis is that she is delivering them to an unknown client for whatever reason,’ A line formed between the agent’s blond brows. ‘Britannia is the most frustrating puzzle piece. We’ve searched and the only link we have found is that the White Queen has apparently been searching for them for a long time.

Clearly, she found out them here in Terra.’

There was a long silence after Germania finished his speech when Matthew broke it with a sniff.

‘I don’t suppose you couldn’t tell us the rest of it, eh?’ He tried, and got a chuckle from it.

‘I am afraid not, unless of course, you would like to accept our invitation.’

‘With some more information, maybe we’ll consider it.’ Alfred countered and reflexively caught the tossed memory stick thrown to him by Yamato.

Germania smiled at him, it’s warmth controlled. ‘On there, you will find information on the Guardians initiative. If you reach a decision on it, or have any relevant information you wish to share regarding the case.’

Alfred simply gave a nod in response, Germania mirroring it before he marched past for the front door; Hungaria flashing them a swoon worthy wink and Yamato a bow before they followed after their leader. Several minutes passed as Alfred and Matthew stared back at each other in stunned silence; the same thought whirring around and around in their heads:

What had they gotten themselves into? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because bigger is better, and better is bigger! A little bit is never a enough! (no, no, no!)
> 
> Ha, joking aside, the stakes in the story have skyrocketed for our characters. It’s certainly going to be ‘interesting’ as the tension pikes.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, then please take the time to leave a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,
> 
> Until next time folks!


	11. Level Up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has over 14 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading ahead, it's posted there under the same name.
> 
> Want to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or want to ask me a question or send a prompt?  
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 Downtown Spades District, Cyan Apartments, Alfred Jones’ and Matthew Williams’ Apartment.

‘Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck!’ Matthew Williams cursed as he stormed around the small room, hands twisted into his hair tight enough to rip the follicles out. Alfred stood there with his arms open in an attempt to pacify him.

‘Bro, just- just calm down okay?’

‘Calm?! How can I be fucking calm? I could handle the Columbia gig. I could get my head around working with Britannia. However, I cannot, cannot accept that we have had our private lives spied on!’

His twin’s words prompted Alfred to scan the room, horribly reminded that it was bugged, and that they were probably still listening to their every word. Their own home wasn’t safe nor private, it hadn’t been for a long time. The thought made him shiver and he got out his phone.

‘Do they know about the Kirkland’s?’ He texted.

Matthew shook his head and took the phone from him to type his response. ‘I was out the house when you called. Phone still has the anti bug on it.’

Alfred allowed himself a small sigh of much needed relief. At least they’d dodged that bullet. His brother’s face hadn’t softened any less though, and Alfred gulped when he reached for him. ‘Look Matt, I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean for all this to blow up so much.’

‘A bit fucking late for that, eh?’ Matthew snapped back at him with a bitter laugh and Alfred’s brows drew together. His hand curled to extend his index and jabbed it to Matthew’s chest.

‘Yeah. It is too late to be regretting decisions, but life’s a bitch like that. You make a choice, and you suck up the consequences. Well, Columbia was the decision we made. Would I have less bruises and broken bones if we hadn’t? Absolutely. Would we be in this situation now? No. But Matt,’ Alfred’s eyes lit up with wonder, ‘Columbia is good for this city, we have done good for this city. We’ve got a sweet thing here, and even now, I wouldn’t change it for anything.’

Matthew stared back at him, jaw set, but his eyes screamed anything but anger; they were afraid, afraid for his brother, afraid for their future and security. The truth that what they were doing was no longer some thrilling secret between them. They had been exposed, and if they didn’t play their cards right, they would get taken in; Alfred likely to some god-knows super max facility that could contain his super strength.

‘I’m just…scared Alfred.’ Matthew confessed with a crack, his clenched fists trembling at his sides.

Alfred’s hand moved to his twin’s shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. ‘I know bro. I know… I am to. But hey, with this Guardian thing, we aren’t in any rush. Let’s keep it on the down low, read through the drive, give it some time, and then make our decision. Okay?’

Matthew sniffed as he pulled away. ‘And what if it’s a decision they don’t like? What then, Al? Incarceration? Live on the run the rest of our lives?’

‘Hey! It won’t come to that! These guys are the government, right? Is they have any decency, they’ll respect our decision. Whatever it is.’ Alfred proclaimed with more confidence than he felt, and while Matthew nodded, his pressed together lips told that he’d hadn’t brought the act.

‘Well, you know what they say. Fake it till you make it.’ Alfred thought as he clapped Matthew on the back and leant down to hoist the two duffles Matthew had packed under his arms.

‘So, ready to do some serious levelling up bro?’ He beamed with his brightest grin, holding out his fist.

Matthew eyed it for a second before his lips gave away to a small, almost reluctant smile of his own, and he bumped the fist back.

‘Hell yeah.’

* * *

 Spades District, 221 Baker’s Street, The Kirkland Residence.

Alfred glanced back over his shoulder back to Matthew when they stepped out the lift and up to the Kirkland’s front door. ‘Ready?’

His brother gulped but nodded his head. ‘Let’s do this.’

Alfred smiled back, however, before he could knock, the door was wretched up to reveal Seamus’ flush face that turned ecstatic when he saw Alfred and Matthew standing there.

‘You’re back! Get yourselves in here! Allistor, Dylan! Alfred and Matthew are here!’ Seamus yelled as he near pulled the two brothers inside, Alfred silently chuckling at Matthew’s quiet gasp when he saw the incredible apartment. They stopped at the centre of the floor when the door to the room that Alfred had carried Britannia into was opened, and Allistor and Dylan stepped out; their faces brightened when they saw them.

‘It’s good to see the two of you. Acadia, or Matthew, glad to have you on board.’ Allistor said with an extended hand. Unbelievably, Alfred could of sworn that he saw the faintest of tints colour his twin’s cheeks when he returned the handshake. Oh, he would have to follow up on that later.

‘How is Britannia? Alfred said he was in a bad way.’ Matthew asked with an averted gaze as Allistor dropped their hands and crossed them over his chest.

‘He’s recovering steadily. It’ll be perhaps a day or two enough he’ll be strong enough to move,’ The Scot replied and then motioned for them to follow him. ‘Come. I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.’

‘Aren’t we going to start training?’ Alfred asked as he followed along with Matthew up the stairs with Allistor taking the lead. Behind them, Seamus gave them a small wave and turned to head back into the room Britannia slept.

At the top of the stairs, Alfred saw and gasped at the huge baloney to his left behind a wall of glass, a turquoise lit up pool built into the stone. Honestly, the Kirklands’ wealth was borderline ridiculous. Allistor took them in the opposite direction through a black door that expanded into another hallway; five more doors lined it’s cream walls.

‘Mine, Seamus’, Dylan’s, Arthur’s,’ Allistor labelled with a point to the respective door and halted between Arthur’s and the unnamed one, ‘Guest. Matthew, you take this one. Alfred, you can take Arthur’s while he’s staying at the old man’s out of the city.’

‘He’s staying at your dad’s?,’ Alfred frowned, his stomach knotting with guilt when he realised he hadn’t asked after him all evening (though in his defence, it had been a very surreal one). ‘Not here?’

‘The old man is…protective with Arthur. When he heard that the school had been attacked, he’d insisted that Arthur stay with him for a few days until things cooled off.’ Allistor lied smoothly unbeknownst to Alfred, who raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

‘Seriously?,’ He asked, finding the story hard to swallow. Even if Arthur’s father was overprotective of his son, surely to pull him out of Terra entirely was too extreme. ‘A bit much isn’t it?’

‘At the end of the day, he gets final say,’ Allistor concluded and moved to open Arthur’s bedroom door for Alfred. ‘Besides, it keeps Arthur in the dark out you and Matthew.’

Alfred’s brow dropped. ‘You don’t want Arthur to know? I thought- I thought that he was onboard with Britannia?’

Allistor’s lip curled and his eyes of Greek-fire focused to lasers on Alfred, pinning him where he stood. ‘Arthur can never know that you and Columbia are one of the same,’ He growled and Alfred struggled to suppress the urge to take a step back from the eldest Kirkland’s intensity. ‘I’ll say it again. Arthur isn’t, and won’t ever be, a part of this team, is that clear?’

‘Crystal,’ Alfred gulped, and his shoulders sagged. ‘I just- I don’t want to lie to him. Friends don’t keep secrets from each other, y’know?’

It was Allistor’s turn to raise a brow, thick and bushy. ‘Friends? You consider Arthur your friend?’

‘Of course! We’re buddies! Wait- why? Has he said something?’ Alfred stuttered, barely registering the rush of blood to his cheeks. Why had Allistor thought that were weird? He and Arthur were absolutely friends, they’d been through enough life threatening bonding moments to be, hadn’t they? They were buds. Friends. Mates…(Soul Mat- No!)

Allistor’s only response was a low chuckle accompanied with a shake of his head as he grabbed Alfred by the shoulder and shoved him into Arthur’s bedroom.

‘Who’d a funk? Arthur has a friend.’ Alfred distantly heard the man breathe under his breath as he stood in the doorway with wide eyes.

Arthur’s room was elegantly modern. The wall opposite to where he stood, like large portions of the penthouse, was entirely made of glass and it offered a beautiful view of Spades’ harbour bay and lighthouse. The night illuminated by hundreds of winking neon lights of blue and purple. The furniture in the room was minimally in quantity, though certainly not quality; a sleek dresser was pushed against the same wall the doorway protruded from, and on the wall to Alfred’s right was a wide HD screen that hung parallel to the bed. And what a bed it was!

A queen, no Californian, canopy bed with pearlised sheets of silk that floated from each post and oyster grey covers and pillows puffed up enough to closer resemble a nest than an actual bed.

‘It looks like a princess’.’ Alfred thought aloud as he made his way over the plush carpet, dropping his bag at the ottoman at the end of the bed, and bent over to test the mattress. He found it firm without a single groan of a spring, immediately putting the ratty one that belonged to his apartment to shame.

‘You’d say otherwise if you knew what he was like in the mornings.’ Allistor laughed from against the doorframe, and Alfred’s stomach fluttered at the imaginary image of waking up beside Arthur in bed. Golden locks tussled to gravity defying proportions, warm, pale fitting form pressed against his… Skin to skin…

Alfred mentally slapped himself hard. Stop it you, he scolded the same green-eyed monster that purred at the fantasy; the same one that had emerged when Bonnefoy had flirted with Arthur in front of him.

His jaw stretched like a lion’s when a yawn escaped him. The fatigue of the day finally catching up with him. ‘You should get some sleep. You’re gonna need all of it for what I’ve got in store tomorrow.’ Allistor grinned before he patted the doorframe and started off back down the hallway they had came.

‘Yeah. Night dude!’ Alfred called after him and leant down to unpack the contents of his duffel.

‘Oh, and one more thing,’ Allistor’s head popped out in the doorway. ‘We start at dawn.’

‘What?!’ Alfred cried, but the Scot had already gone for good. With nothing left, Alfred grumbled to himself as he swiftly changed out of Allistor’s borrowed outfit into a pair of briefs, before climbing into Arthur’s bed and rolled into a comfortable position; Arthur’s scent pleasantly surrounding as he drifted off.

* * *

 The next morning.

Alfred huffed, beads of perspiration trailing down the sides of his temples as he bounced on the balls of his bare feet and swung to land a solid hit against the hand target gloved hand. Allistor gave him an approving nod and rightened his hands in position again, keeping light on his feet to match Alfred’s pace. True to his word, Allistor had woken him at dawn sharp, and brought Alfred down into the Kirklands’ gym/dojo below the living room to put him through a series of fitness tests. The latest one being that of coordination.

‘Good. Now, all the Kirklands’ special skills and roles. Go.’ Allistor ordered and Alfred licked his lips and jumped to avoid Allistor’s testing kick.

‘Okay. Dylan’s the hacker, gadget guy and explosive’s expert. Rarely on the field, specialised in support instead. Prefers throwing projectiles.’ He recited the information Allistor had drilled into him during his examination (that had involved a lot of prodding and ‘tell me when it starts to hurt’’s).

Allistor gave him another curt nod, feigning left as he did. ‘Technically we’re all trained to be considered support for Britannia. Go on.’

‘Seamus is an ace sniper and good at stealth, making him the scout. He can also drive slash pilot anything.’

‘Don’t let him hear that. His head’s big enough.’ Allistor smirked and ducked under Alfred’s swipe.

Alfred continued to press his advance with aggressive momentum. ‘You’re trained as a war medic. The old Britannia trained you to be the muscle of the team, as well as the leader. Britannia’s coordinator.’ Alfred saw Allistor’s brow draw together, and immediately felt terrible for it. It was clear that Allistor considered Britannia’s insistence to go out without a coordinator a failure on his part; to spend your whole life training to be in a partnership, only to have said partner reject you had to be crushing.

‘And finally?’ Allistor lowly prompted and Alfred had to clear his suddenly tight throat.

‘A-Arthur, sharp shooter, cat burglar and pickpocket. Multi trained with weapon types, but his main is the bow and sword. He and Britannia were trained together.’ He finished with a missable crack in his voice. Even with Allistor’s in-depth explanation totally making sense why Arthur was able to floor three men twice his size, Alfred still had difficulty accepting that Arthur had assassin equivalent training. It was not because he had any doubts about his capability, nu-uh. It was the horrible scenarios that ran through Alfred’s head that had him on edge; play scenes of Arthur being surrounded by knives and guns, one hundred to one. Arthur, laying on the ground in a pool of blood, a bullet hole between his dull dead eyes. Arthur, screaming in agony, tears streaking down his cheeks, his back ripped to shreds like Britannia’s…

‘Smack that look off your face,’ Allistor grunted and took the presented advantage to box the dazed American upside the head. ‘If I were Arthur, you’d already be on the floor.’

‘Allistor,’ Alfred blurted before he could stop himself, the make believe track of Arthur screaming on a hellish repeat cycle. ‘How can you stand it? Knowing that the ones you love could die out there.’

The Scot’s face hardened. ‘Look laddie. I get where you’re coming from, I really do. But remember that we have been at this since we’ve been babes. Arthur has been doing this his whole life. It’s sweet that you’re worried about what he’s been through, but get it into your head that no good will come of stressing over the past.’

The churning of Alfred’s stomach slowly calmed as he absorbed Allistor’s wise words. He was right. The past was the past, and he couldn’t change that. Arthur was trying to live a normal life now, and Alfred took that thought as a security blanket. With it, he knew he could fully commit to helping Britannia. Britannia was probably eager to keep Arthur out of it all as well, away from danger.

Alfred gave Allistor a grateful nod. ‘Thanks man. I needed to hear that.’

‘Anytime lad,’ Allistor returned softly, and then the impish winkle returned to his eye. ‘Right. Enough sappy chat. To the weights!’

* * *

 A few hours later…

‘How-much-longer.’ Alfred gasped between heavy pants, his chest heaving, unable to get enough oxygen to keep up with his body. Body slick with sweat, forearms bulging, Alfred trembled as he held his push up position, tightening his core. Sitting on top of him, actually sitting crosslegged balanced on his back, Allistor leisurely smacked his lips and gave a bounce that caused Alfred’s palm to slip an inch against the tatami mats that made up the dojo’s flooring.

Alfred had been holding up Allistor, plus the additional weights he in turn held, for almost an hour now, and his back and shoulders were creeping close to cramping.

‘Another ten minutes me thinks.’ Allistor replied breezily, and Alfred groaned as his muscles fibres elevated to a higher octave of screaming. Ten minutes? He wasn’t going to last another ten seconds.

‘Allistor…I gotta- I gotta take a break.’ He pleaded, dangerously close to caving in under the weight, when it was abruptly gone. Alfred let himself go limp, not even caring when his face mushed against the floor. Boneless, spent, his lungs and heart working in maximum overdrive as he shamelessly panted for breath. He had greatly underestimated how tough this was going to be. He had never been pushed this far whilst fighting as Columbia.

‘Never. Moving. Again.’ He wheezed, and groaned when he felt himself be manually rolled onto his back. Allistor grinned down at him as he held out a chilled bottle of glorious H2O, elixir of the gods. Tempted to open his mouth and ask Allistor to start pouring, Alfred swiped the bottle, briefly pressing the cool surface to his burning forehead before he uncapped it and downed the liquid. As he did so, he felt Allistor crouch down beside and take his throbbing arm to examine it.

‘You’ve got a good gasp on your limits.’ Allistor said with an impression hum and began to knead and massage the arm, draining the lactic acid from it.

‘Where did you learn that?’ He sighed when Allistor moved to his other arm.

‘Temple in Thailand. Spent weeks mastering acupressure, twi no and trigger point therapy.’ The Scot muttered, and Alfred couldn’t hold back an unintentional moan when he was flipped again and Allistor switched to working out the knots in his back with deep, long strokes.

‘Medic. Right…Hey, trigger point, does that mean that you can do that thing where if you hit specific nerve points, you can paralyse a guy?’

‘Cross me and you won’t like the answer.’ Allistor darkly teased and moved back to allow Alfred to sit up.

‘You’re one scary dude, dude. How’d I do by the way? Close to lifting the door?’ Alfred asked hopefully.

‘Lifting the door, aye. Being able to fight alongside Britannia though…’ Allistor trailed off uncertainly, and Alfred felt his stomach drop.

‘But- but you said that my technique was alright!’ He cried as he scrambled to his feet.

‘Aye, except ‘alright’ isn’t going to cut it if you and Britannia come up against the woman in white,’ Allistor snapped back, causing Alfred to wince at the memory of when he had been too slow to stop himself from being grabbed and thrown into Britannia, sending them both overboard. She had beaten their asses. Hard. ‘Britannia couldn’t keep her back by himself, and the way your fighting is now, you’ll get in the way more than helping.’

Had to admit, that hurt. Really hurt. It must of showed on his face because Allistor gave a disappointed sigh and motioned upstairs with a throwaway hand. ‘Go take a break while I set up for the next bit. There’s orange slices in the fridge.’

Alfred didn’t give any response, and turned away to walk up the stairs into the living room where Matthew and Dylan worked. The early afternoon sun shone bright to illuminate the airy room and the air was lighter and cooler than the level below. Fruit dishes and pitchers of water and orange juice had been set on the dining table for snacking, and over on the coffee table by the party sofa, the 3D hologram of N.O.V.A labs slow spun; red and white spots were strategically positioned throughout the complex to symbolise cameras and other security measures. The glass surface near entirely covered by electronic tools, gadgets and wiring.

Sat on the left sofa side, with his coordinator set up spread out, Matthew held a screwdriver between his teeth and rotated Britannia’s gas mask in his hands. Opposite him, Dylan Kirkland sat holding up the Columbia suit as he sewed shut a tear in the fabric. To his surprise and delight, Alfred saw that a few alternations had been made along with the patch job, namely, the suit had been enforced in places with what looked like kevlar padding. Bulletproof suit, nice.

Matthew’s face lit up when he saw Alfred, and wrinkled his nose at his sweat slick appearance. ‘You look awful.’ He smirked before going to back to admiring the inside of Britannia’s mask.

‘How’s Allistor treating you?’ Dylan asked without looking away from his work; combing over every thread, pulling at the fabric to test it’s durability.

Alfred gave out a sigh as he made his way for the Kirklands’ kitchen fridge. ‘I like, expected it to be tough, but like- I dunno…He’s hard on me.’

Dylan looked up. ‘He has to be though if you’re going to lift that door in time.’ He rationalised, and Alfred’s shoulders slumped as he searched for the promised orange slices amongst all the fresh produce.

‘I know. But goddammit it doesn’t make it any easier,’ He sulked before he found the desired fruit and sucked on a slice. ‘How’s things on your end coming?’

‘Great, eh! Dylan’s been upgrading your suit and I’ve been tinkering with the goggles’ interface. Should be less buggy now.’ Matthew beamed, and Alfred let bad for the jab of jealousy in his gut at his brother’s smooth progress. Change topic. Now.

‘What’s that?’ He quickly asked and pointed at the shape sitting on Dylan’s knees, half hidden by the Columbia suit. After carefully setting said suit down, Dylan gripped the shape and held it up for a better view. It was a black compound bow with matching full quiver.

‘Britannia’s oneida kestrel. 31 inches, 70lbs, smooth, silent, strong.’ Dylan introduced, tilting the weapon so that it could be marvelled at from all angles; surprisingly, none of the arrows slid out or about loose in their quiver. How handy, Alfred thought.

‘How come I’ve never seen him with a bow if he’s reportedly so good with one?’ He questioned, and Dylan gave out a loud laugh.

‘No ‘reportedly’ about it. Britannia’s a crack shot, with the only reason that you haven’t seen him with a bow is because he hasn’t felt the need to use it with this city’s crime level.’

‘Cocky, eh?’ Matthew scoffed.

Dylan shrugged as he put down the bow. ‘Yeah, can’t deny that,’ He smirked, and then frowned when he looked past to where the stairs were. ‘What are you doing dressed like that?’

Alfred turned to look and saw Seamus with his arms folded in a army kevlar vest and combat boots, looking ready to storm a battlefield. The irishman’s eyes shifted to meet Alfred’s, and a shit eating grin spread across his face when he pointed at him.

‘It’s you and me, cupcake. Downstairs, right now.’

Alfred gave a short laugh, that trailed off when he saw that Seamus was serious. ‘Um, dude, I’d like love to- but Allistor is probably wanting me to get back to training.’

‘No fear. The fight’s Allistor approved, wants us to juke it out to work on your technique,’ Seamus said with a crack of his knuckles and cocked his head with theatrical pout. ‘Unless, you don’t think you’re up to it?’ He taunted.

That did it. Alfred finished off his slice by shoving it whole into his mouth, and chewed furiously as he marched over to stand toe to toe with Seamus, puffed up chest against chest.

‘Let’s fucking go bro.’

 


	12. Not so Untouchable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has 15 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading ahead, it's posted there under the same name.
> 
> Want to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or want to ask me a question or send a prompt?
> 
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 

Spades District, 221 Baker’s Street, The Kirkland Residence.

In all fairness, the match had started well.

Alfred had moved as he always had. Kept light on the balls of his feet, elbows in and high to guard the face. And yet, despite keeping to his tight technique, Seamus was able to counter or dodge his every swing with his staff. The irishman was too quick, too fluid in his movements for Alfred to land a solid hit on him. Seamus constantly had him on the ropes, weaving and dancing past his jabs like water. He had already managed to knock Alfred on his back twice, which was impressive considering that Alfred was a good head taller.

On the third time he fell, Allistor strode over from where he stood to offer his hand to the prone American. ‘Come on. Again.’

‘Dude. This blows. Seriously, how is getting my butt handed to me helping?’ Alfred groaned as he used Allistor to leverage himself to standing. Allistor rolled his eyes at him.

‘Then change things up if they’re not working.’ The Scot advised, before he broke away to resume his place as ref. Alfred gave a huff as he lowered himself into his stance. Seamus winked at him before he spun his bō staff expertly, and the fight struck up again. He started aggressively, working fiercely to push his opponent back, and yet despite redoubling his efforts, Seamus still managed to keep the high ground.

‘Your strength! Your strength is your greatest asset! Use it!’ Allistor shouted out to him, and Alfred spared him a curt nod before he narrowed his eyes at Seamus as he concentrated. Steeling himself, Alfred baited his time, waited as Seamus spun the staff for his head. His hand shot out, caught the wood, and snapped its end off by smashing his elbow through it; the wood splintered under the immense force.

A pulse of smug satisfaction shot through Alfred at the wide surprise that darted across Seamus’ face as he back-pedalled, caught off guard by his sudden show of strength. However, the green eyes sharpened in record time, and he spun the broken staff for a follow-up strike. With renewed confidence, Alfred caught it again, and snapped it like a twig the same way he had before; unconventionally, yet undeniably effectively, disarming the irishman.

Allistor’s and Seamus’ faces were astounded, frozen, before they both broke into ridiculous twin grins. ‘Bloody hell! That was incredible! Ever thought about doing that with a gun?’ Seamus cackled as he threw down the remains of his staff.

‘Aye. He can be taught,’ Allistor mused with an impressed smirk, before he made an upwards motion. ‘Let’s keep this up. I want to see power behind those swings.’

Alfred’s victorious smile faltered like a dying light. ‘Uh, I really don’t think that’s such a good idea.’ He cautioned with a nervous glance over to Seamus.

‘Don’t worry laddie, I don’t bruise easy.’ Seamus breezed with playful batter of his eyelids.

‘It’s your bones I’m worried about.’ Alfred returned seriously around chewing his bottom lip. Hadn’t he told them that he could break concrete?

‘I’m not asking you to go full force. Just more than what you’ve been using till now. You need to know the maximum amount of force you can put behind your punches whilst still being nonlethal,’ Allistor soundly reasoned as he strode over to one of the dojo’s wooden chests. He knelt down to open it and tossed the two pairs of boxing gloves he retrieved over to Alfred and Seamus. ‘We have to establish your limits, and only then, can we train you to overcome them.’

‘Wait, we’re not gonna take a break? I thought I’d scored a point!’ Alfred cried even as he pulled on the padded gloves. Seamus mirrored the action.

‘Break? That’s a good one! We ain’t stopping until you knock _me_ down,’ He quipped before bumping his fists together. ‘So c’mon then Ronald McDonald. Hit me!’

* * *

 

A few hours later.

When Alfred finally body slammed Seamus against the mat, he reared back to roar his success to the ceiling. The sweat of hard work had never smelt sweeter. Immediately, Seamus was flipping back onto his feet, laughing as he jumped onto the American’s back to join the dance. Allistor joined them to thump him on the back.

‘Fantastic laddie! That’s what I like to see!’ He congratulated and Alfred beamed back at him.

‘All thanks to you two!’

‘Na. You can thank us properly when you can take us all.’ Seamus chuckled.

‘That- doesn’t likely.’ Alfred said with an uneasy laugh. He’d only just managed to knock Seamus down, and he was sure that the trick he had used to do it wouldn’t work a second time. The mere idea of fighting all the Kirklands simultaneously and _winning_ , was way too farfetched.

Allistor made a thoughtful noise. ‘I don’t know. Give me a year and I could see it,’ He pondered beneath his breath, before clapping his hands together. ‘Right. We’re done for tonight then. Now, go get a shower, I’m going to check in with Dylan and Britannia.’

A satisfied sigh left Alfred and he felt Seamus nudge him with his elbow and gesture him to follow. ‘Come, I’ll show you where the bathroom is. I’ll even be nice and let you go first.’ He said, and Alfred could of purred at the thought of a hot shower as he followed the irishman up the stairs.

The Kirklands’ bathroom, like everything in the penthouse, was gorgeous. It was tiled with matte glossy tiles and there were neat piles of folded fluffy towels on the long sink counter of black granite. The most impressive feature for Alfred by far though, was the overhead open shower, and the American could see his reflection break into a smile at the sight in the wall of mirrors. Stripping quickly and setting his glasses down with care, he let out a loud moan when the hot pressured water rained down; washing away the sweat and tension in his hard worked muscles…

He got out when the heat began to turn his head light, and reached out to grab one of the towels he had seen earlier off the counter. Patting himself down, Alfred couldn’t resist a quick flex in the mirror, grinning with pride at the hardened gun show. Sure it might be vain, but hell he had earned a bit of self appreciation after the day he’d had. With nothing else, he dressed back into his clothes, and when he reached for the door, he heard soft voices outside.

‘Unbelievable! That stubbornness is going to get him killed one day. He shouldn’t be moving so soon!’ Alfred recognised as Dylan.

‘Aye, he can barely stand as it is…There’s something else to. Something off with him, even after I brought him up to speed.’ Allistor’s voice rumbled, and with a frown, Alfred paused from reaching out for the doorknob. Britannia was up already? He’d had his back freaking tore up. The more Alfred learnt about him, the more and more metal he seemed to get.

‘Is he alright?’ Dylan asked with an audible frown.

‘I know his tell. There’s something he’s not telling me.’ Allistor gritted through his teeth, and Alfred decided he had heard enough and opened the door. The two brothers looked over to him, stood together, arms crossed with tense shoulders; if Alfred hadn’t heard them, he would of been able to tell that their conversation hadn’t been a fun one. With a quick glance around the living room, Alfred saw that Seamus and Matthew were missing from the well lit room. When he asked where they were, Dylan cleared his throat and consciously relaxed his posture.

‘Gone to get takeout. Here, you’re going to need these.’ He answered and reached into his pocket to take out the Columbia goggles. Alfred raised an eyebrow at them when he lunged forward to catch the modified headgear.

‘Britannia wants to speak to you up top.’ Allistor clarified with a nod to the upstairs, and Alfred felt a lump form in his throat. He wasn’t sure he was mentally prepared to speak to Britannia after what happened yesterday. Sure, Allistor had said that he’d been told everything that had happened and the current arrangement; but the last time Alfred had spoke with Britannia as Columbia, he had gotten them thrown overboard and they had argued. Britannia had rejected his offer of partnership, what if he did again?

‘He’s pretty doped up on painkillers, just to warn you, so take things slow.’ Dylan advised as Alfred put on the goggles and took a deep breath to steady himself. He could do this, just rip the bandaid off.

‘Good luck.’ Allistor called after him when he began to climb the stairs to the next level.

* * *

 

Even though he had already seen the top floor before, the absence of sunlight seemed to exaggerate and enhance every marvel-worthy feature as Alfred came to the top of the stairs. He awed, once again, at the protruding vast baloney with the luxury swimming pool built into it, now lit up turquoise by submersed lighting. A thin railing of metal and glass bordered the baloney and resting against it, topless in simple shorts, with his heavily bandaged back to where Alfred stood, was Britannia; watching the winking blue, purple and indigo lights of up town Spades District.

Taking a moment to engrave the breathtaking scene into his memory, Alfred quietly slid open the door and padded over to where Britannia stood; the distant blaring of car horns and smooth jazz floating up to their lofty heights. The night’s air was cool, and helped soothe the earlier anxieties he had had about the reunion.

He hesitated, unsure whether to break the peaceful silence, before going for it, and took his place beside Britannia. Britannia did not look over to him when he did, and they instead, stood in each other’s company. A sweet, content pause of silence stretched between them, before Britannia eased out of it with a slight tilt of his mask toward him.

‘Thank you.’ He said in a cracked voice, and Alfred internally winced. The moment soured to bittersweet with the hoarse quality to Britannia’s voice, acting as a painful reminder of his strangling, and of Alfred’s failure to prevent it.

‘I’m sorry.’ Alfred softly replied, barely a whisper as he kept his eyes on the arm-in-arm elderly couple as they crossed the street below.

‘You saved my life.’

‘I should of gotten to you sooner.’ Alfred disagreed.

‘You saved my _life_ , Columbia.’

‘Allistor said you can barely stand—’

‘Columbia,’ Britannia hissed in his scratchy voice and grabbed Alfred’s arm to pull him so that they were face to face. ‘I would be dead if not for you. Never apologise for that again. And, if you even _think_ about feeling guilty for something that you couldn’t of done anything about, I swear I will throw your sorry arse off this baloney.’

Alfred stood there with an openly slack jaw, looking the half naked Brit up and down, before an unexpected chuckle bubbled from his chest. ‘I see that stubborn temper of your’s survived as well.’ He laughed between breaths, unable to help himself.

‘What temper? I am as cool as a cucumber.’ Britannia snorted with a upturn of his nose, and Alfred steeled his courage as he take a chance, and leant in.

‘It’s adorable.’ He smiled, and felt his heart quiver when Britannia gave out a high squeak of surprise at their close proximity; the response too cute for Alfred not to stop a blush of his own colouring his cheeks. What was _that?_

Britannia had always been neutral to him at best of times, aggravated at the worst. Had- had that been an actual _reaction_ to his advances? Alfred’s heart flipped over inside his chest even as Britannia shuffled away to regain the previous distance between them.

‘I— Columbia, I have to know that you are— that you understand what you are getting into here,’ Britannia appealed, his grip on Alfred’s arm gentle now. Pleading. ‘You have know that is isn’t like it is down there on the streets. The people we’re up against aren’t common thugs. Good people, people with their whole futures ahead of them can get seriously hurt in this. You have to be prepared to put your life in my hands, as mine was with your’s. And… and you have to be prepared that what happened today, has a good chance of happening again.’

Alfred gulped and with deliberate slowness, rested his hand over Britannia’s on his arm. ‘I understand, because if it’s my life in your hands, I know I have nothing to worry about. It’s like I said on the beach B, I trust you.’

The intimate beat lasted suspended a second longer, before Britannia took back his hand; Alfred already missing it’s warmth. He cocked his head playfully at the American. ‘Hm. Just because I’m pumped up on morphine, don’t think I’m such an easy tease.’

Said American blinked, and opened his mouth to insist that -No. I am genuinely trying to flirt with you. I love you- when Britannia pushed himself off the railing and spat out a sharp hiss of pain as the action jarred his tender back. Alfred reacted fast, and caught him by his elbow before he could crumble to the ground.

‘Here B, I gotcha.’ He said as he helped steady him, and then proceeded to hang one of the vigilante’s arms over his shoulders whilst his own encircled his thin waist.

‘Like I asked for your help.’ Britannia mumbled, despite already moving to lean his full weight into Alfred’s support (at least, what Alfred supposed was his full weight. Due to the super strength perks, Britannia weighed next to nothing to him).

‘Yeah, yeah tough guy. Let’s get you downstairs to dear matron Allistor.’ Alfred smirked and his smirk turned into a wide grin when it earned him a rough bark of laughter from Britannia. He’d made him laugh! _He’d made him laugh!_

‘What I would give if you could say that again to his face.’

Alfred quirked a brow, dropping his hold on the hand over his shoulder to ease open the sliding glass door. ‘Oh yeah?,’ He baited, the challenge pulling at that innate childish competitiveness that carried through into adulthood. ‘If I do, how about you owe me a favour?’

‘On one condition.’ Britannia bargained as they neared the stairs.

‘Anything.’

‘I get to be there when you do.’ Britannia said with an intangible smile in his words.

Alfred wickedly grinned with a wink. ‘Done.’

* * *

 

Upon limping to the bottom of the stairs, Alfred inhaled deeply and sighed as he was met with the drool inducing smell of Chinese food. The Kirklands and Matthew, all sat around the glass dining table, spared them brief glances as they approached, before they went back to shovelling cow men noodles into their mouths. At his side, Britannia gave a soft grunt as he detached himself from Alfred’s side, and moved to swipe one of the unopened boxes. As he took his place between Allistor and Dylan, Alfred claimed a noodle box of his own and plonked himself in the chair opposite. To his right, Seamus leant forward and pointedly cleared his throat. When no response was given, he rolled his eyes.

‘We’re seriously not going to acknowledge that Britannia just bloody _limped_ down the stairs?’ He demanded looking between his brothers. ‘By all rights you shouldn’t be moving!’

With (to Alfred’s amazement) his mask minimally pulled back so that his mouth was exposed so could eat, Britannia scoffed. ‘Oh hush. I’m using magic to accelerate the healing. I’ll be in shape to break into N.O.V.A tomorrow.’ He brushed aside, and Alfred choked on his piece of pork. His wild spluttering to dislodge the meat was accompanied with cries of outrage.

‘It’s too soon!’ Dylan protested as Britannia lowered his mask back into position.

‘Too right it is!’ Seamus agreed. ‘Columbia’s had only a day of training to lift the door.’

Britannia turned his head to meet Alfred’s uncertain stare. ‘Can you lift the door?’ He directly asked.

A ‘Yes.’ left Alfred’s lips before he could stop it, and three green pairs of the evil eye stopped him from saying more. Britannia cracked his knuckles and switched his gaze to Dylan on his right.

‘And the gear and plan is ready?’

‘Easy lad. There’s no sense in rushing this.’ Allistor interrupted with his thick brows pulled together.

‘No Allistor. Every moment we wait, the more we risk our lead to the scientists disappearing. Our last and only lead.’ Britannia spat back. An extended, solemn silence followed after.

‘Matthew and I finished prepping the gear before he and Seamus left for food. The plan’s done as well.’ Dylan finally admitted with reluctance, and Britannia gave a curt nod.

‘Then we move tomorrow.’

‘And what exactly do you plan to do if the White woman turns up for you?’ Seamus countered, and Alfred could practically see the scowl beneath the gas mask.

‘It’s a fair point. She did hand our asses to us.’ He grimly reminded.

‘We’ll be ready for her this time.’ Britannia growled.

‘Being ‘ready for her’ ain’t gonna cut it Britannia.’ Allistor retorted, and Alfred held up his hands.

‘Hey hey, just- what everyone’s trying to say, is that maybe it isn’t such a bad idea to have some kind of ace, y’know? A wildcard we can play to get outta a pinch?’

Britannia tilted his head as he considered. ‘That’s…actually not a terrible idea.’

Alfred couldn’t stop from smiling as he leant on the back on his chair legs. ‘Yeah, ain’t I full of them?’ He winked and caught Matthew mock retch, before his eyes went wide when Allistor subtly overtipped his balance; causing him to slam back onto all fours in panic. The Scotsman tried to unsuccessful smother his amused smirk as he turned to Dylan.

‘Can you come up with something?’ He asked and the man in question shrugged.

‘I can pull something together.’

Allistor gave him an appreciative nod before he pushed back onto his feet; everyone else followed suit as if it were custom, a slight delay between them and Alfred and Matthew. ‘Right. Columbia, Britannia, get some rest. I want you both in prime shape if we’ve moving tomorrow. Britannia’s going to need a proper bed, so Columbia, you’re in with Matthew. Seamus, Dylan, Matthew, we’ve staying up to make sure everything’s watertight.’

There was a chorus of agreements before the board split, scattering to carry out the assigned roles. Alfred hurried to catch up Britannia at the stairs.

‘Hey,’ He whispered as they climbed. ‘Are you seriously up for this?’

‘Is that doubt I hear?’ Britannia teased, followed up by suppressed hiss as the action of opening the door to the bedroom’s jarred his back. Alfred shot him a dubious look.

‘I just don’t want you to overdo it.’

Britannia gave a bark of a laugh when they to a stop in front of Arthur’s bedroom door, his hand resting on the handle. ‘The concern is appreciated, but unfounded. Good night, Columbia.’

‘Night B.’ Alfred managed before Britannia shut the door in his face with a resounding thud…

Well, that went well, He thought as he entered the guest bedroom; it’s layout identical to that of Arthur’s room. Matthew’s belongings had been spread out on every available surface, and on the neatly made bed, Alfred spied the glow of his half open laptop. When he crept closer, his brows shot up when he saw that the drive that Germania had given them in the port.

‘That was quick Matt.’ Alfred muttered to himself as he undressed down to his briefs and crawled into bed, pulling the laptop onto his lap and lifted the screen.

**TOP SECRET:**  


_**The Guardians Initiative,** _

_the Heroes of our World_

Founded and led by Special agent Germania of DIA, the Guardians Initiative was formed to create the first government regulated specialistic team of gifted individuals, in a UN collaborative effort to reduce international crime and terrorism. Each potential candidate of the Guardians Initiative undergoes an extensive background check alongside covert surveillance to ensure that said candidate exhibits all the ideal qualities (see Page 9).

Successfully scouted candidates will be required to sign a nondisclosure secrecy agreement and will then have access to privileges such as:

  * Level Three access to DIA digital archives.
  * Entitlement to DIA resources and services (terms and conditions apply).
  * International immunity when conducting mission assignments on foreign soil.
  * Private tuition in diplomacy, media awareness, public speaking, languages and geography.
  * Enhanced martial arts and weapon training.
  * Air, water and ground vehicle pilot training.
  * Financial security for oneself and family, with the minimum annual pay starting at-



Alfred gave out a low impressed whistle. That was a lot of zeros. He wanted to read on, but the fatigue got to him before long to turn his vision hazy and blur the words together. ‘I’ll just have Matthew paraphrase the nitty-gritty for me later.’ He yawned as he set the laptop down and rolled onto his side, unable to help but compare at how much nicer Arthur’s bed was as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

Immediately after shutting the door, Arthur took off the Britannia mask and turned to glare at the eyes he sensed on his back. Across in the window, distorting his reflection, Hatter grinned that shit eating grin of him; intense, electric blue eyes unashamedly up and down Arthur’s naked torso.

‘’Ello poppet~’ He purred, and Arthur didn’t merit him a response as he strode forward to stop in front of the glass to place his hand against the cool plane. In his parallel bedroom, Hatter rushed forward and pressed his hand in the same position to give an illusion of intimacy.

‘Don’t get the wrong idea.’ Arthur hissed as he opened his mind to Bleed, weaving his magic into glowing runes of warding and protection that flowed out from under his hand to cover the glass. A low pulse echoed throughout the rest of the apartment, and Arthur heavily exhaled as he felt his magic be smothered by the Lucid neutralising effect.

The spell was a double edged sword, in that whilst the entire building was safe from anyone or anything Lucid, it meant that Arthur was essentially cutting off one of his senses. However, if it meant that his brothers, Columbia and Matthew Williams (still low-key internally screaming that Alfred’s brother was the coordinator of Columbia. Arthur just prayed to god that Matthew had enough sense to keep Alfred out of it all) could sleep soundly, then it was worth it. He could not be allow Hatter to hurt any of them because of him.

‘This is impressive and all,’ The dream demon mused as he tapped the glass, the runes’ glow fading as though they had never been there. ‘but it won’t help you escape me in sleep. The land of dreams and everything in it, is mine. See you in a bit love.’

The glass rippled, and Arthur saw that his reflection was his again, mirroring back a pale face of exhaustion. Nothing left to do but discard his pants, he climbed into bed with grim anticipation, reaching over into his bedside draw and to retrieve and swallow down a handful of sleeping pills he kept there. As the darkness at the edge of his vision throbbed, Arthur took a deep breath, and let it take him.


	13. We do make a good team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has 15 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading ahead, it's posted there under the same name.
> 
> Want to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or want to ask me a question or send a prompt?
> 
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 Terra City, Spades District, N.O.V.A Labs

Had you told Alfred when he had first donned the Columbia persona, that two months later he would be laying on his stomach beside the legendary Britannia Angel waiting to break into a high security research lab, he wouldn’t of believed you. It was a surreal experience, and Alfred constantly caught his gaze drifting over to the British vigilante whenever he wasn’t concentrating.

The grass they lay on was cold and from about five metres away, the tall concrete walls that bordered N.O.V.A’s white complex building stood. The sounds of the city, with it’s car horns, pulsating electro music and blaring trains, were faint. Alfred breathed in a deep, cleansing breath as he turned his gaze up to the night’s sky that was bright with moon and star light.

‘The stars are beautiful.’ He observed with an inclination upward. Britannia shot him a look before he followed his stare. God, Alfred wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to being in casual proximity to his idol.

‘It is a clear night.’ Britannia agreed with nonchalance, and Alfred screwed his courage to the sticking place as he leant in closer.

‘You know what else is beautiful?’ He asked coyly before he heard the loud static crackle of his comm opening.

‘Columbia,’ Matthew’s voice hissed in his ear. ‘we’re not in radio silence yet, remember?’

Blood rushed to Alfred’s cheeks at the image of Allistor, Seamus and Dylan listening in on his flirting, and he started when Britannia spoke up again. ‘I don’t know. What else is beautiful?’ Britannia asked with a sarcastic droll.

Alfred panicked. ‘Uh- the Sun.’ He floundered, internally screaming as Britannia stared at him with an indivisibly raised eyebrow.

‘Please tell me you haven’t been staring at the Sun, Columbia.’ The Brit deadpanned, and before Alfred could open his mouth to defend himself, Allistor -as Britannia’s coordinator, Saxony- spoke up in the shared channel.

‘Alright ladies, showtime. Dylan is in the security mainframe and ready to loop the security camera streams on my signal. Once the loop is initiated, you’ll have thirty seconds to vault the wall and get into the roof’s ventilation opening that’ll take you to the central elevator shaft.

Until then, it’s radio silence on the comms until you can find an electric maintenance port. Get that done, and we can guide you to Edelstein’s office.’

‘Copy that Saxony.’ Britannia confirmed, Alfred bracing to sprint alongside him as Allistor initiated the countdown until the cameras were looped. On ‘One!’, Alfred sprang forward and belted for the wall, Britannia hot on his heels. He reached it first, pivoted with his knees bent, fingers locked together; ready. No hesitance whatsoever, Britannia ran at him full force, leapt, both feet swung out to land solidly in Alfred’s hold and was launched; Alfred tensing to absorb the converted force.

With the poised grace and balance of a feline, Britannia landed silently on top of the ledge, and squeaked when Alfred crouched and power jumped up beside him. ‘Since when could you jump like that?’ The Brit exclaimed with a comical look of disbelief back down from their great height.

Alfred just clicked his tongue with a wink, and instead went for the ventilation opening that Allistor had directed them to. He knelt and gripped the metal grid covering before he easily ripped it off it’s securing bolts.

‘Ladies first.’ Alfred quipped with a nod of his head down into the vent, and chuckled when he could practically see the scowl behind the gas mask.

‘Wanker.’ Britannia backhanded as he got down into the vent on all fours and began to crawl. Alfred got in after him, carefully replacing the cover as it had been.

The air in the vent was surprisingly clean, though it gradually dissolved to a stuffier quality the farther in they crawled. Speaking of crawling…Alfred had an _extremely_ pleasing view as he did; and was grateful that the video feed of his goggles, along with it’s audio, had been disconnected. He knew what Matthew would say about his helpless staring at the adorably tight butt in front of him.

After what Alfred guessed had been about two minutes, Britannia slowed and carefully eased himself out of the cramped vent into a larger square one. The Brit held his arm out to caution Alfred as he slid out to join him on the thin ledge that lined the rattling elevator shaft; the two thick steel cables acting as the pulley system for the unseen elevator.

Alfred had just manually triggered his goggles’ night vision when he felt a tap of his shoulder, and followed the line of Britannia’s pointed index to the shaft’s ceiling. Britannia followed up with a motion for space, and when Alfred gave it him, unslung the compound bow from over his shoulder, nocked a grappling arrow and fired. The arrowhead stuck and held strong when Britannia tested the nylon rope that fell down after it.

‘Come on.’ He said with an extension of his hand after he replaced his bow on his back. Alfred looked at it, and then back up to Britannia dubiously.

‘Dude. Seriously?’

‘What? The rope will hold.’ Britannia innocently reassured.

‘It’s not the rope.’ Alfred clarified, and then looked pointedly at Britannia’s hand that dropped when it’s owner finally caught on.

‘Oh really! I’m not going to drop you.’ The Brit objected, his voice elevating to a higher octave in offence. However, the suspicious arch of Alfred’s fair brow didn’t drop.

‘I’m packing some pretty heavy duty guns here B. Nothing against you, okay, but maybe I should be the one doing the lifting.’ He justified, held his breath when Britannia stiffened, thought on it, and then passed the rope over. As Alfred secured his grip on it, Britannia stepped close to hook his arms around the back of Alfred’s neck; chest against chest, hips to hips.

Never before, had Alfred been so desperate not to react as he had in that moment then; trying to think of anything but how Britannia has pressed right up against him, their faces inches apart, so, so close…Noooo! Nopeity, nope nope nope!

‘Ready?’ He croaked, not trusting himself to look him in the eye, and heard Britannia awkwardly clear his throat and then give him a clipped smack upside the head.

‘Just waiting on you, _Mr Gun Show_.’ Came his reply with dry sarcasm, and Alfred gave him a quick nod before securing his arm around Britannia’s slim waist, and stepped off the ledge.

His hand grew hot as the rope slipped through his grip as they steadily descended, the friction of fabric against rope creating a high whistle noise as they sped. It was the same as last night: Britannia was incredibly light in his arms, and Alfred immensely relieved, if so what mystified, that he had showed signs of a complete recovery that morning. His healing magic must be something else, because when Allistor had taken off his bandages, there had been only light scarring.

‘So, uh- what do you think we’ll find?’ Alfred asked to break the silence that was turning awkward as they zipped, his voice reverberating and refracting back off the cold metal walls.

Britannia wiggled uncomfortably in his grasp. ‘I couldn’t say. All we know is that whatever it is, Edelstein was desperate enough to lock it in Clover Bank to keep it out of the hands of the White woman. But to kidnap so many neuroscientists…’

‘Matthew and I have a theory,’ Alfred lied, recalling the information Germania had told him about the White woman/Queen. ‘We think there could be another party involved, a client of sorts.’

Britannia’s head snapped back up to him from previously peering down. ‘A client? You think the White woman has been commissioned?’

‘Yeah, but like I said, just a theory. But, what if this mystery client needs the missing neuroscientists for something? Some kind of shady evil project like in the movies.’

‘We are hardly on a film set, Columbia. Fictional characters acting to some script.’ Britannia jibed.

‘Yeah, but if we _were_ , I’d totally be the hero.’ Alfred proclaimed with puffed up chest.

‘Oh really?,’ Britannia chuckled with droll sarcasm. ‘and what would that make me?’

Alfred smirked, and hitched his grip on Britannia’s waist. ‘The princess, obviously.’

That got him another smack up the head. ‘Watch it buster- Wait! There’s a maintenance port!’ Britannia exclaimed, and Alfred looked around to spy the electric console built into the side of the wall adjacent to a set of elevator doors; the blue light of it’s screen like a flare in his sensitive green night vision.

‘Okay, lemme get us some swing.’ He muttered after switching it off, and swung out his legs to begin building up momentum. At the proper moment, Alfred released his grip on the rope and shot out his free hand to pull him and Britannia to safety, hugging the wall whilst balancing on a similarly small ledge they had before. Britannia unhooked himself from around Alfred and shuffled over to to tap the back of his glove against the console screen. There was a satisfying ‘bleep!’, before the familiar burst of comm static popped.

‘Columbia, Britannia. You both online?’ Matthew’s voice came, and Alfred smiled; glad to have his coordinator watching his back again.

‘New phone, who dis?’ He teased with mock ignorance, and there were a mixture of follow up groans and chuckles.

‘Hilarious, Columbia. Britannia, any issues getting in?’ Allistor questioned with his usual commanding authority.

Britannia shook his head. ‘No issues, Saxony. Awaiting further direction to proceed to Edelstein’s office.’

‘Excellent. Right now, you and Columbia are on the third floor. Edelstein’s office is on the floor below where the elevator is currently stalled. You two are going to need to drop down and enter it through the emergency hatch.’ Allistor directed.

Britannia nodded, and without a word, leapt off the ledge to zipped down the elevator’s cable, leaving Alfred in his dust. By the time Alfred’s boots hit the top of the elevator, Britannia had already gotten the hatch open and dropped down into the inside.

‘Saxony tells me there’s two armed guards on the other side of these doors,’ Britannia said after he climbed in behind him, Matthew activating his goggle’s heat lens to confirm the fact.

‘Okay, sweet. I get the one on the left, you get the one on the right.’ Alfred proposed, but Britannia shook his head.

‘No, the corridor’s too long. You’ll be shot before you can get close.’ He disagreed before he took out his bow and nocked a blunt arrow. Alfred raised an eyebrow.

‘Well what’s your plan then, Churchill?’

Britannia cocked his head mischievously. ‘Why, I so glad you asked Columbia.’

* * *

  _Clang!_

Brian Jenkins jumped and fumbled with his gun to point it at the end of the corridor. He and his colleague, Mark, shared a look, before he motioned for him to go check it out. Brian gulped, and silently padded towards the elevator doors. He stopped to listen, and when he heard nothing, he tapped the call button to have the doors slide open.

One step forward was all it took. Brian cried out as he felt himself be pulled in and be wrapped into an unbreakable chokehold. He panicked, gasping for air that would not come, and through his furry vision, saw a second assailant step out from cover. As black spots swallowed him up, the last things Brian heard were ‘Sorry ‘bout this buddy.’, and the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground.

* * *

 When he felt the struggling body finally go limp, Alfred carefully propped the unfortunate guy he’d been forced to choke out up against the elevator wall; pushing down the guilt as he flopped about boneless. They had a job to do, and Britannia’s plan to take out the guards had been a good one, but it was still hard when you knew that they were just doing their jobs.

‘Nice Columbia, now onto the door.’ Matthew encouraged, and Alfred turned for his jaw to go slack when he saw the last obstacle between them and their lead.

Allistor had not emphasised just how freaking monstrous the vault door was. It was made of interlocking plates of steel from ceiling to floor, with a simple touchscreen at the centre of it and rubber tooth grips along the bottom. It was colossal, and it looked like terrifying.

‘Two tonnes, yeah?’ He asked aloud, hating the nervous quiver that could be heard but not helped. This was the moment that his training had been amounting to. Everyone was depending on him, the entire plan hinged on it.

‘You are ready for this Columbia. You’ve lifted twice that in weight training.’ Allistor urged with Seamus and Dylan in the background calling out, ‘You can do it! Lift with your knees!’.

The coiled knot of his stomach writhed, the air getting harder and harder to breathe as his breathing swallowed. He- he, everyone was waiting on him, Allistor had said that he could do this- but, but what if he couldn’t? What if his strength gave out, or his grip slipped and he dropped it whilst Britannia was inside, or worse, under it. What-

All nightmarish thoughts evaporated when he felt a touch on his arm. Britannia looked up to him, his hand gentle and warm; centring him back to Earth.

‘On the beach, remember?’ He reminded, and Alfred felt his inner trembling cord settle, strong again. Britannia’s meaning was clear: I trust you. Britannia believed in him, and Alfred’s confidence blossomed under the radiance those words gave him; cementing over the cracks that had formed in the foundation.

‘I remember,’ Alfred returned with a grateful smile, wishing not for the first time that he could see the blond’s expression. He broke away, strode up to the door, got his grip and braced. ‘You can do this, you can do this, you can do this.’ He swore to himself and flexed.

At first, nothing…

And then.

The metal shrieked deafeningly as the two tonne construction of metal was forced upwards, slowly at first, and then smoothly as Alfred got a better hold, raising past it his hips, then shoulders, and then head.

It was heavy, but no way near the weights that Allistor had had on him. Yeah the door was heavy, but it was bearable in comparison to the weights that had made him want to collapse.

‘Holy shit.’ Matthew breathed, and Alfred resisted the hysteria giggle that rose up in his chest.

‘B, honey,’ He gritted through his teeth instead to the seemingly mesmerised man. ‘Could we hurry it up please?’

Britannia rapidly shook his head as though to clear it and darted under, locking with Alfred’s gaze for a split second that seemed suspended in a single tangible moment. ‘The door will trigger it’s alarm if it’s open for too long.’ Allistor pressed. Alfred took the hint and carefully lowered the door back down to the floor.

Edelstein’s office looked as though it hadn’t been touched since the last time the doctor had been in it. Papers and yellow files were scattered about on the desks and stuffed into glass shelves. The decor was stylishly minimalistic, and the curved walls were made of glass to offer a picturesque view of the lit up red and blue bridge that connected Spades and Hearts; tiny car headlights running over it like little ants against the backdrop of the luminescent city skyline.

In the corner of his eye, Alfred saw Britannia beeline for the desktop and tap the back of his glove against the screen like he had done with the maintenance console. As the desktop whirred to life, Britannia lowly muttering into his comm, Alfred wandered over to a set of drawers where a collection of trinkets sat on top; paperweights, that weird waterbird that every office had, and-

Alfred froze, and picked up the framed photograph of three faces that he knew. Doctor Braginsky smiled at him between the two women that he recognised as the Winter Syndicate agents- No, Hungaria’s words rang in his mind- the sisters’ of the Winter Syndicate’s leader, General Winter…

Hadn’t- hadn’t Britannia also told him that Edelstein was the Syndicate’s scientist? Could…Doctor Braginsky be General Winter? His features were near identical to that of the sisters, and it would explain Edelstein’s reason for having a photograph of him in his office.

Alfred’s blood chilled. That night at Diamonds, Braginsky had been insistent that he and Arthur leave together. He had said that they’d already met, though Arthur had denied it. And Britannia had told him that he and the Syndicate had had bad history… Did Braginsky know that Arthur was involved with him? Had that been the reason he’d wanted him alone?

Germania had revealed that Braginsky had left Terra for now, but the doctor still held a respectable reputation within the city, and if all he had hypothesised was true, then there was no guarantee that Braginsky would leave Arthur alone.

Alfred shivered. No. He _and_ Britannia would never let Arthur be taken.

‘Oi, Columbia!’ Britannia’s voice jolted him out of his chaotic thoughts, and Alfred nearly dropped the frame in shock.

‘Uh- Yeah, yeah! I was listening,’ He attempted to recover with a big smile. He held up the picture frame. ‘Just looking for clues!’

Britannia’s body language stiffened before he pointed to the frame. ‘What is that on the back?’ He demanded, and Alfred flipped the object over to see a black USB stuck on the back with a strip of sellotape.

‘Duuudddeee~,’ Alfred ogled as he peeled off the data stick, turning it this way and that to examine it. ‘Twenty dollars says that this is the super secret research Edelstein took back from Clover bank.’

‘Let’s hope so. Saxony, how’s the download progress on Edelstein’s hard drive?’ Britannia asked into his comm.

‘Done, and did I just hear the words ‘super secret research’?’

‘Yes. Columbia found a hidden memory stick. Nothing confirmed, but odds are good if Edelstein felt the need to hide it.’

‘Fantastic. Get back as soon as you can so we can take a look at that stick. Good work lads. This is Saxony, over and out.’ Allistor signed off with a crackle of static, and Alfred fist pumped the air.

‘Aw yeah! Flawless victory! Man, we make such a kick-ass team!’ He gushed, and felt his smile falter when Britannia folded his arms with a scoff.

‘Oh please. This was hardly difficult,’ He waved off with a throw away gesture as he made for door. However, when he came shoulder to shoulder with Alfred, he looked up to meet Alfred’s hurt stare.

‘Though I do admit. We do make a good team.’ He confessed with an audible smile in his voice, and the whole way back, Alfred could not stop smiling the world’s biggest, most ridiculously happy grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo! 
> 
> Wow, this was a super fun chapter to write. Sorry to blow my own trumpet a bit here, but I felt the characterisation and chemistry between Britannia and Columbia/Alfred really all came together in this chapter. Both characters had serious moments, moments of intelligence, flirtation, humour and more etc. The natural development of their relationship so far, from chilly beginnings has felt quite wholesome, and most importantly, believable to me and hopefully to all of you to.
> 
> Playing around with comedy in this chapter was blast as well. My favourite being the fourth wall break when Britannia says ‘We are hardly on a film set… Fictional characters acting to some script.’. It’s hardly Deadpool level wall breaks, but I thought it was pretty funny :D
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. If you are liking this story, please consider leaving a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. They are always appreciated and help get these chapters out faster to you. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,
> 
> Until next time!


	14. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is my Hetalia story that I've crossed over from Fanfiction.net. The Fanfiction.net version has 15 chapters posted already, so if you're interested in reading ahead, it's posted there under the same name.
> 
> Want to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or want to ask me a question or send a prompt?
> 
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!  
> (See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

Spades District, 221 Bakers Street, The Kirkland Residence.

‘All hail Columbia and the Britannia Angel! Heroes of Terra!’ Seamus cheered as Alfred, Britannia at his side, strode into the penthouse as champions robed victory; a ridiculously proud grin plastered to the American’s face. 

‘Damn straight!’ Alfred roared as he strode over to the sofa and leapt onto Matthew to pull him into a chokehold and noogie his head, the younger twin squealing in delight as he bucked against him. Britannia made a noise of amusement as he passed over to Dylan and tossed him the memory stick.

‘Cheers love.’ Dylan winked with a high British accent and plugged the stick into the port on his laptop. As his fingers tapped away at the keyboard and everyone gathered around the sofa, Alfred released Matthew to nudge Britannia with his elbow.

‘So B, after this, what’s say you and I ditch the suits and go for a drink?’ He offered with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and Britannia scoffed with an upturn of his mask. 

‘How about a yes to the drink. No to the suit ditching.’ The Brit quipped with a return nudge, and Alfred’s grin widened to one of a lunatic’s as he mouthed over to his brother, ‘Did you see that? Did you see that!’. Matthew rolled his eyes at the same time when at the same time, Dylan brought up the holo-table’s interface.

‘Let’s see here,’ The welshman muttered under his breath whilst a litter of documents and images popped up on the virtual screen. ‘Woah, seems N.O.V.A has been pouring major funding into their neuroscience branch.’

‘Particularly on the effects of inhibitors on brain activity.’ Seamus highlighted, and Allistor leant forward for a closer look.

‘There are experiment records that make mention of a inhibitor “X”,’ He read. ‘Side effects exhibited by participations include; disassociation, hallucinations, dizziness, tiredness. A positive correlation was found between the concentration of administered doses and the severity of side effects.’ 

Alfred’s brows furrowed as he continued to skim through the text. ‘Wait. So Edelstein’s working some drug?’

‘The memory stick you found may shred some light on the subject.’ Britannia hummed and with a few swipes of the mousepad, Dylan opened the files on Edelstein’s memory stick.

‘“X” is an enhancer drug. Capable of exponentially boosting the speed of the electrical impulses that diffuse across the nerve neurone synopsis by increasing the influx of sodium ions in the Schwann cells.’ 

Seamus grunted. ‘That’d make the relapse period near nonexistent.’

‘But wouldn’t that overload the brain’s capacity to process information?’  Matthew pointed out, and Britannia gave a curt nod. 

‘Not so much overload as your brain would be receiving so much input, that it wouldn’t be able to properly process it.’

‘Meaning that the instant you formed a thought, it would be instantly be broken down for the next one and so forth.’ Dylan carried on, a deep line between his comically thick brows. Now Alfred was not lame, but truthfully, the majority of this scientific babble was flying over his head.

‘Uh, what does that mean?’ He sheepishly asked as he glanced between them all.

‘It means lad,’ Allistor grimly concluded. ‘that depending on the concentration of the dose, it could either enhance your senses and reflexes to superhuman levels, or trap you inside your own head.’ 

Next to him, Britannia sharply cursed. ‘The gunman that attacked Edelstein for lobotomising his sister. She had to have been a test subject in these experiments.’

Alfred’s veins felt as though all the blood in them had been replaced with lead. The very idea was…to a little girl…

‘This is beyond fucked up.’ He breathed, and chorus of ‘Amen’s’ followed after. A moment of sober silence stretched out before Matthew cleared his throat to break it.

‘Does anyone have any theories of what the idea behind this drug is? I mean, they clearly aren’t going to submit this for clinical approval.’ 

‘Judging from it’s dual usage as a sensory enhancer, as well as a dangerous sedative, I’d say we’re looking at the newest drug on the Underworld market.’ Allistor put forward and Dylan hummed in agreement.

‘I’d second that. It’s still in the prototype stages, and Britannia look here. “Patients that displayed abnormally high levels of brain activity (categorised as: **Lucid** ) reacted strongly to even low percentage doses with unpredictable results. Some cases resulted in the Lucid patients completely losing their ‘abilities’, and in other cases, amplified them to uncontrollable levels,’ 

As Alfred scanned through Edelstein’s personal notes, it became clear that the doctor had drew much perverted glee from experimenting on Lucid individuals.

Dylan continued to read aloud. ‘In all these cases, the patients would attempt to engage in acts of self harm invoked by hysterical delusions and hallucinations, no longer being able to distinguish between reality and the nonexistent. Curiously, all patients that lapsed in insanity, spoke of a “Voice” that called out to them from the beyond. Whilst none have directly clarified what this “Voice” says to them, it is evident from the persisting insomnia and night terrors, that it is something to be feared.’

‘Stop,’ Britannia demanded, Alfred only now noticing how rigid he stood, tightened fists trembling at his sides. ‘That’s enough.’

Guilt slammed in Alfred like a freight train. Fuck, if he had found it hard to listen, how had someone who was Lucid themselves felt? ‘Britannia…-’ He tentatively reached for the Brit only to have him step away.

‘I should of let Edelstein hang.’ Britannia growled, and after all he’d read, Alfred couldn’t find it in himself to argue against it.

Without warning, Seamus started up in his seat and pointed at the screen. ‘Wait wait wait, wait. Dylan, scroll back up. I just saw something,’ All eyes peeled now for what the irishman had seen, Dylan slowly scrolled back up and Seamus bounced in his seat.

‘There! Six batches of prototype X3 was retrieved through extraneous negotiations between Yao Wang and the Winter Syndicate. The final price was settled at five million US dollars and a nonaggression pact between the two organisations.’

‘Who’s Yao Wang?’ Alfred asked when he saw the brothers grimace at the name.

‘A major crime lord of the Underworld, and _not_ a fan of mine. I’ve dismantled more than a few of his smuggling and drug networks,’ Britannia replied with a cross of his arms and tilted his head to Alfred, who was internally sighing at the reminder of just how badass Britannia was.

‘Perhaps your theory was right, Columbia. To say Wang was the mysterious client behind the white woman wouldn’t be a far throw. Wang’s yakuza and the Syndicate have clashed over this drug before.’

‘Well, for whatever reason, something must be up for him to break his nonaggression pact and hire this white woman to kidnap Edelstein and the other scientists.’ Dylan proposed.

‘Yeah, think about it. Get the scientists that are developing the drug, and you control it’s production.’ Seamus tagged on, but Alfred’s brows drew together and he turned to fix Britannia with a look.

‘But that still doesn’t explain why the white woman was after you.’ He frowned, and Britannia shrugged.

‘Maybe Wang finally got tired of me fucking up his plans.’ Was all he offered with nonchalance, and Alfred was not reassured.

Seamus got up from his seat and leant over to Dylan’s laptop to tap at the keyboard and bring up a map of Terra, zooming in on the Hearts’ red light district. ‘Wang owns a luxury ‘adult theatre’ and brothel in the style of a Chinese palace named ‘The Jasmine Dragon’. Built on a small island, the only access is via skyline connected to the end of the high end strip.’

‘Sounds tricky.’ Matthew mumbled around a chewed lower lip.

‘That’s not the worst part,’ Dylan declared. ‘the Jasmine Dragon website states that Wang is currently staying there as we speak.’

‘Even better he’s there. I’ll interrogate him myself,’ Britannia countered and ignored the looks of shock from the Kirklands in favour for Alfred. ‘Columbia. I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve-’

‘Oh no. Don’t think for a second that I’m backing out now,’ Alfred cut off, sensing the concluding direction Britannia was leaning toward. ‘We’re in for the long haul baby!’

Britannia looked between him and Matthew, an indivisible look of worry on his face. ‘We’d be infiltrating a crime lord’s base of operations. It’s not going to be like N.O.V.A. It’s going to be kill on sight with the guards, there will be innocents in the crossfire.’

‘We can do it if we work together!’ Alfred reaffirmed with his brightest grin, and there was an echo of chuckles and sighs from their audience at the enduring display. Allistor stood up to draw everyone’s attention.

‘Right then lads, me thinks we should take a short break. Dylan has to data mine the rest of the Edelstein’s hard drive and memory stick, and we all need a breather to get some normality back into our lives. Say we reconvene the day after tomorrow.’

The motion was met with a ripple of agreement before everyone broke away to depart, Matthew following Allistor upstairs to repack and retrieve his and Alfred’s bags, whilst Alfred did not move from Britannia’s side; a soft smile on his face as their gazes met. 

Britannia gave him a single nod. ‘That was something else, how you managed to lift that door. I- I admit that I wasn’t certain about this at first, but tonight has cleared a lot of doubts for me.’ He confessed, and Alfred felt his smile widen, his heart aflutter from the praise. Britannia had complimented him, _complimented him._ His pores opened, his crops were blessed, and the world was all that much brighter. 

Now, now was the time to take his advances to the next level. Britannia had been responsive to them in N.O.V.A, that meant something right? Come on man! Answer with something cool, something flirty and something so goddamn smooth that you’d break your back slipping on it.

‘Well, uh, y’know- We did…good.’ 

Britannia stared at him, and Alfred internally screamed at his stupid tongue before there was an adorable snort of laughter.

‘Yes. I suppose we did.’ The Brit chuckled and Alfred reeled to recover.

‘I mean- I- I’d glad that I was helpful to you.’ He stammered, the blood boiling in his cheeks.

Britannia’s chuckling stopped, and he inclined his head. ‘W-what are you getting all flustered about? Of course you were helpful, idiot. Weren’t you the one blabbering on and on about how great we were together?’

Alfred’s brow quirked. ‘I never phrased it like that, but I’m glad you think so to, gorgeous. Must be a sign that we’re made for each other,’ He winked and Britannia made a strangled noise before he huffed and turned to stomp for the stairs, crossing Matthew with two duffles on the way up. ‘Hey! Come on B, don’t be like that! What about that drink?’

‘You go shove it up where the sun don’t shine!’ Britannia yelled back and slammed the bedroom hallway door shut behind him. Alfred glared at his brother’s shit-eating grin when he approached.

‘Shut up.’

‘I didn’t say anything,’ Matthew chimed with innocence as they left the penthouse and stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut. ‘Not going well, huh?’

Alfred carded his hand through his hair with the other resting on his hip, his reflections did the same. ‘He’s hard to figure out.’

‘Maybe you should try taking it slower. Ease into it.’

Alfred turned to look at him with pained eyes. ‘I just, get so caught up around him. I’ve been waiting months for this, I don’t wanna wait anymore.’ 

‘You seem to be forgetting that priority number one here is rescuing the scientists.’

‘Don’t be mean, man. You know what this all means for me.’

‘Better than anyone I’d sure,’ Matthew sighed and reached into his pocket to pull out the drive Germania gave them. ‘I saw that you’d given it a read through.’

‘It was more a skim,’ Alfred shrugged and tilted his head when he saw his brother’s brows pull together. ‘What you thinking?’

‘I was thinking about this Wang character, and how we know next to nothing about him. Well, the DIA would have files on him, wouldn’t they?’ 

It was time for Alfred’s own brows to furrow. ‘Are you suggesting we bargain?’

‘Yes. Germania is looking for the white woman. If we can offer a tip off about Wang’s involvement and request files on the man, then it helps both our cases.’ Matthew argued and Alfred folded his arms.

‘Yeah, and when he asks how we found the lead, you can be the one to explain how we broke in a lab and stole top secret research.’

‘We’ll give the bare bones, and if he’s still not satisfied, we’ll play the final card and offer to relay back anything new we find out.’ 

Alfred fixed Matthew with a hard look. ‘Sounds like something a chump would do.’ 

‘It’s the last resort Al. I really don’t want to go into this blind,’ Matthew pleaded, the vulnerable tell of his lip quivering, and Alfred give in with a sigh. He’d let him have this, the better position Columbia was in, the smoother he and Britannia would be able to pull this off.

‘Okay, okay. Just get back to me or whenever if it works.’ He relented. Matthew shot him a grateful look, and the rest of the journey back home was carried out in silence. 

* * *

Clubs District, Groves Avenue, Patrick’s Street.

‘Look, all I’m saying is that these missing scientists is where it’s at right now.’ Mathias stated from the driver’s seat, his phone on hands off mode as he drove past the striking light show that was the Clubs District. Lukas sighed and instead of meriting the man a response, pressed his forehead to the cool surface of the window, the patter of raindrop a soft comfort as they cruised. ‘You can’t deny that if Britannia, Columbia and Oz are following this, it isn’t nothing.’

Over the three way line, Berwald’s grunt came from Mathias’ phone on the dash. ‘Except everyone with a brain knows that Britannia works alone.’ 

‘All three of them were on the scene when Doctor Edelstein was taken. They have to be involved.’ Mathias protested as he indicated left and pulled into the next lane. Lukas watched the passing cars as they did, preferring like in most cases, to remain silent.

‘That doesn’t mean _we_ have to be,’ Emil’s high tilted voice came, the faint hum of a washing machine audible amongst the muffled background chatter. ‘It’s not our fight, and it’s drawn crazy attention.’ He added with a blunt accusing jab, and Berwald sighed.

‘Yes, you’ve made your feelings quite clear on the matter.’ The older man scolded, but the Emil hadn’t finished his piece.

‘Come on! Is no one else the bit concerned that a government agency has been spying on us? They know our identities, they’re probably listening in on this conversation for gods sake.’

‘Emil, it’s necessary if we’re going to work with them.’ Mathias bit back, and Lukas’ head snapped over to him. 

What.

‘What?’ Lukas demanded with subzero iciness, and narrowed his eyes when Mathias’ cheeks reddened. His hands fidgeted around the wheel.

‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ He admitted. Lukas just stared at him, causing him to squirm. ‘Yeah, I’ve been reading through the contract, and it’s a got a lot of perks. We’d all be financially set, you wouldn’t have to work that shitty excuse of a job. We could get a nice place in Clubs.’

‘Exactly how long were you going to wait before telling us this?’ Lukas hissed and Mathias fixed his eyes forward.

‘Until we got the majority vote.’

‘We? Who’s ‘we’?’ Emil blurted.

‘That would be me,’ Berwald announced. ‘Mathias and I were working on Tino.’

‘Tino!’ 

‘I haven’t agreed to it yet!’ The younger man cried in his defence.

‘Oh, but there _is_ a ‘yet’ huh?’ Emil snarled bitterly.

Lukas rolled his eyes with his jaw clenched. ‘Unbelievable.’ He spat when just then, his phone rang in his pocket. Taking it out, he saw that it was Vladimir’s number. Good, he thought and answered it, Mathias repeatedly stealing glances quick over to him.

‘Lukas.’ His Romanian confidant curtly greeted.

‘Vladimir. What did you find?’ 

‘Not as much as I’d hoped. Everyone’s still lost, but there are some that are getting together to try to crack it. Again, they hadn’t found anything major, but the word ‘messiah’ is cropping up.’

Lukas internally swore. Of course that was the next logical jump. Everyone dreaming of the same face was very ‘the coming of Christ’. ‘That’s what I was worried about.’

There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me Lukas?’ Vladimir pressed suspiciously.

‘I know the man is. I’ve met him.’ The words slipped from him before he could stop to think of the consequences.

Vladimir gasped. ‘You _know_ him?! Wha-What is he like?’

Lukas chewed on the bottom of his lip, knowing he’d said too much already. ‘He is powerful. On a completely other level to anything I’ve seen before.’

‘Messiah theorists are going to love this,’ Vladimir mumbled to himself, causing Lukas eyes to go wide. ‘You said that you met him, yes? Meaning he’s in Terra.’ 

‘Vladimir,’ Lukas warned, not liking one bit the creeping anticipation in Vladimir’s tone. ‘You can’t come to Terra. No, he’s just as confused as the rest of us all. He doesn’t know why this is happening either.’

‘Relax Lukas, all we want to do is say hello,’ Vladimir replied airily, the faint scratching of pen against paper heard beneath his words. Lukas felt his stomach churn. He’d betrayed Arthur’s trust, now who knows how many of them would come to Terra looking for him. Fuck. _Fuck._

‘I will be seeing you soon Lukas. Thank you for your help.’ The line went dead before Lukas could even open his mouth. The Norwegian sat there numb as he slowly lowered his phone from his ear, his throat dry and tight with the suffocating lump that had formed in it. All defensiveness from their earlier argument had evaporated on Mathias’ face in replace of concern as he stared at his partner.

‘Lukas?’ He tentatively asked, his voice soft, and Lukas’ eyes felt heavy when he met his stare.

‘I have to warn him,’ Was all he could bring himself to say. ‘I have to warn him.’


	15. Love Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or want to ask me a question or send a prompt?
> 
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

Unknown, Unknown, Arthur Kirkland’s Bedroom.

Warmth. 

That was the first thing Arthur became aware of. He was perfectly warm, as though he were lying under the sun’s rays. 

A pleased hum left him as he shifted, soft bedsheets rustling beneath him, when his eyes snapped open as he felt a foreign weight pressing against his back. 

He bolted to throw himself off the bed, face aflame with the realisation he was nude, when something met him. Arthur yelped as he pulled back and roughly landed on top of whatever had grabbed him, straddling something firm.

‘Morning beautiful.’ A familiar voice, thick with sleep, chuckled to make Arthur’s eyes pop as he stared struck at who he was laying on. Sun kissed bronze skin, tousled blonde hair with closed eyes and perfect teeth that flashed, Alfred Jones stretched out lazily below him like a renaissance greek god.

Arthur could only ogle that the vision in front of him, too perfect to be real. It took a solid minute for his wits to return to him, and when they did, blood flooded his cheeks. He was sat with either knee astride Alfred’s hips, hands splayed against a set of gloriously defined ads and matching pecs. Nothing between their naked crotches, but a thin bed sheet. 

Arthur’s hands flew so fast to hide his face that he slapped himself, head bowed whilst his heart threatened to burst from his chest. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t naked in bed on top of Alfred, he—

‘Arthur? C’mon, you can hardly be shy after last night.’ Alfred teased, and Arthur felt two strong arms gently pull him down to the American’s chest. Arthur remained still even as the arms went on to cradle the back of his head and waist, rubbing small circles into his skin. 

Last night? They hadn’t—

‘A-Alfred?,’ His voice came out small, truthfully finding it hard to think when he was hyperaware of how their bodies were pressed against each other, and how every little shift sent a pleasant tingling through him. This couldn’t be real…

‘Did we…?’

Alfred’s throat vibrated as he chuckled and tucked Arthur’s head under his chin, an idle finger tracing out a constellation with Arthur’s old back scars; drawing together the discoloured pale patches of skin. The pleasurable sensation lulled Arthur’s eyes to close as he subconsciously relaxed under the ministrations, sweeping away his concerns into a back corner. 

 

Mmmmhmmm~ 

 

‘Surely, I wasn’t that forgettable. Would you like a refresher, love?’

Tension slammed into Arthur like a freight train. 

Alfred didn’t say ‘love’. 

 

**_NO._ **

Arthur bucked. Desperate to rip himself out of the demon’s grasp, but the thick arms were cages and they crushed him back down tight. 

‘Let me go you sick fuck!’ Arthur screeched as Hatter’s cruel laughter bounced off the walls. Alfred’s eyes were open now, unnatural electric blue orbs locking on Arthur’s as he writhed to free himself, lips pulled into a sadistic grin as they laughed.

‘Too easy~’ 

Arthur thrashed for all he was worth, tripling his frantic efforts when he felt a hand cup his jaw ‘Get your bloody hands off me!’

‘And to think, it all took was to wear this stupid boy’s face,’ Hatter taunted as he traced a thumb over Arthur’s pulled back lips, teeth bared. ‘It is truly beyond me what you see in a maggot like him—’

Hatter’s taunt was cut short when a thunderous quake shook the room, a splinted crack frosted the window glass. The dreamscape collapsing with Arthur’s hysteria. Hatter gave a disappointed tut before he turned his attention back to Arthur squirming in his arms; his twisting form beginning to faze as he began to wake himself out of REM. 

‘Looks like our playtime’s over for now poppet. Still, there’s always next time, and the next time and the next time after that~’ Hatter cooed with a perverse grin before shoving his face forward and mushing their faces together. 

Arthur screamed around the vomit-inducing kiss, and continued to scream even as he felt himself be drawn up and away from the dream room, pipelined back to reality. 

* * *

Spades District, The Kirkland Residence, Arthur Kirkland’s Bedroom.

Arthur Kirkland bolted upright, and wildly thrashed in the tangled bed sheets that stuck to him with cold sweat, spluttering and choking for deprived breath whilst his heart raced a mile a minute. His head snapped sideways, and only when he saw that he was alone, did his brain rationalise that he was safe for now. 

He swiped a forearm against his damp forehead, grimacing at how disgustingly slick it was with perspiration, and looked outside to where the morning sun shone in through his windows; bathing the Terra’s skyline in gold. 

He was back. Hatter could only keep him under for so long. But that just meant that Arthur was powerless to do anything else but hold out against Hatter’s torments. A exhausted sigh left him as he ground his palms over his tired eyes. At least he had spared his brothers from the same fate. His stomach coiled at the thought. He would have to tell them at some point though; that Hatter was back and targeting him. He would tell them…eventually…just maybe after he’d came up with a more permanent solution for the dilemma.

A long groan was pulled from him as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and a wave of fire ignited across his back; not as healed as he had lead his brothers and Columbia to believe with illusionary magic. The wound still hurt like a bitch whenever Arthur moved in the wrong way, but he’d always been good at masking just how much pain he was in. 

He reached over to his bedside table and poured out a handful of pain killers from Allistor’s little orange pot and downed them all at once, crunching them to speed up the process. He forced himself to his feet and stumbled over to his dresser, avoiding the mirror in favour of the Britannia mask that sat on top. He smiled fondly at it. 

He and Columbia had made some fantastic progress last night. The Wang lead had done wonders for his confidence in working as a team; Allistor in his ear again, and Columbia with him out on the field felt right, natural even.

The American hero had proven himself a capable ally, even if he was cocky as anything. Perhaps because he hadn’t been given the opportunity to properly utilise it, people underestimated just how strong Columbia was. He was strong and kind, and he was brave. He had saved his life, and Arthur had meant very word when he said that they made a good team. Admittedly, he looked forward to their next mission together to infiltrate the Jasmine Dragon.

But what exactly did that mean. What were they? Unofficial partners? Would Columbia even want to make it so? And would he want to continue this…whatever they had, after they were finished with Wang and the missing scientists case? If Arthur decided to go after the White Woman, or investigate why the Winter Syndicate had placed _a fucking hit_ on Alfred’s head (The first thing Arthur had done once he had been able to move was call one of his mother’s old ‘friends’ to buy out the hit. Being among the best of the best, the ‘friend’ hadn’t asked any questions, only promised that no one would be coming after Alfred again.) would Columbia offer to stick around? Surely, he would if it was a matter of Alfred’s well being.

Alfred… 

Arthur raised his head, and scowled at his reflection as he attempted to tame his wild hair, the gravity defying tufts looking like blond horns. The image of Alfred’s face twisted by Hatter, Hatter’s cruel laughter coming from Alfred’s lips… The Brit ran a hand down his face and sighed exasperated at the dark bags underneath his eyes. 

No. The real Alfred was out there, safe, with a normal life and who dreamt of normal things. Not traumatising dream demons. Arthur’s hand dropped from his face and he thudded his forehead against the mirror. 

What was his heart doing? The sensible part of him, the Britannia part, knew that the difference between him and Alfred was too great for any kind of relationship Arthur wanted. And yet, good god Arthur wanted it. 

He wanted to look at Alfred’s smile everyday; he wanted to wake up to it, and know that he was the reason behind it. Alfred Jones radiated warmth, good and honest warmth. He was genuine and uncomplicated. He lived the life Arthur had never had the chance to. He was— well, he was to Arthur what the green light that the end of Daisy’s dock was to Gatsby: a dream. 

A beautiful, impossible dream that he was completely in love with.

The loud buzz of a text alert grabbed Arthur’s attention, and when he checked it, he saw he had ten missed calls and one text message all from Lukas. 

_Got word that people like us are coming to Terra._

_Please be safe, keep your head down._

_L_

Arthur huffed. Great. Of course, days before he and Columbia planned to go after Wang, more Lucid people were arriving in Terra. Still, they’d cross that bridge if or when they came to it. 

‘Shite.’ Arthur cursed when he saw the time and that he was late. He dropped the phone and legged it for the shower, a smile on his smile despite himself, as he thought about the upcoming day being spent with Alfred.

* * *

 Spades District, The University of Gaia, Lecture Hall One

‘And so because of the uh- _event_ that has happened, the school has decided to not take part in the founding festival,’ Francis Bonnefoy glumly announced to his class (at least those who’d bothered to show, with many claiming they required at least a week’s break to recover from the trauma of the attack) at the front of the classroom. 

Alfred sat with his head in his hands, bored out of his mind.

He was so over keeping up appearances when he could be training with Britannia for their next mission, or reading through the files Germania had sent them (Alfred had practically spilled everything about what he had learnt with Britannia, including that Ivan Braginsky was General Winter before Germania had been appeased enough that he agreed to send them their files on Wang. Matthew had been pleased but Alfred felt played) with Matthew back home. But, of course, his brother had to be a buzzkill and rub the fact that he was still failing Bonnefoy’s class in his face, and he had to at least keep up attendance if he was ever going to make a recovery. 

The only saving graces were that Alfred had managed to swipe the files before he’d left the apartment so he could get a read first, and that he would see Arthur again today, for the first time since they had separated during the school attack.

In truth Alfred was sweating bullets over it. How would things be between them? Would Arthur be offended that he haven’t contacted him to check on him? Alfred had wanted to do that, but it wasn’t like he could of just asked Britannia for Arthur’s number as Columbia without sounding like a creep. And if he’d asked one of the Kirkland’s, they’d totally know something was up. 

Alfred slumped down in his seat and softly banged his head against the desk. He really, _really_ wanted to talk to Arthur. More than he suspected he should on a friendship level. Which seriously messed with his head when he knew that he was beyond crazy for Britannia. Alfred had always laughed at characters in movies when they were in a love triangle, but never had he thought that he would understand the frustration of being in one. 

No.

What the hell was he saying? He couldn’t be in a love triangle with Arthur, because for that to happen, Arthur would also have to be in love with _him._ That thought helped clear his head. If Arthur had no interest in him, then there was no problem; and he could love Britannia with a clear conscious. 

‘But will you really be happy with that?’ The green eyed monster asked, and Alfred internally frowned at it. 

‘Yeah. Of course. It’s totally cool if Arthur only sees me as a friend. I’d be fine with it’

‘You’re lying.’ 

Alfred bit down on his lip and sank lower, practically lying down. 

Yeah. He was.

* * *

 

Arthur flew through the corridors, skimming past lecture hall after lecture hall looking for one in particular. When lecture hall one came into sight, Arthur took a deep breath to steel his nerves and opened the door the exact moment the calling bell went off. 

The classroom was noticeably empty, with twelve students at most, all low in their seats. Arthur’s eyes scanned between the faces until he finally saw the one he searched for. Alfred Jones sat up at the back of the class and when green eyes met blue, his slumped form shot up to attention. 

But alas, before Arthur could even think about smiling, he was nearly knocked off his feet as Francis crushed him in his arms. 

‘I thought you had been hurt. I thought…’ The frenchman gasped with his face buried in Arthur’s messy hair, mumbled breath hot against his ear. Arthur’s rigidness melted away and he gave a small smile as he relaxed into the embrace, bringing his arms up to return the hold. Though they would bicker like cats and dogs, Arthur knew that deep down that Francis did legitimately care for him, just as he did with him. 

‘So sentimental, Francis. You haven’t been on the wine again, have you?’ Arthur smirked and grunted when a hand snaked down to palm a buttock.

 _And_ the perverse, cheese loving tool he knew as Francis was back. 

‘I’ll consider it if you would agree to drink with me, mon petite lapin.’ Francis sultrily purred before Arthur grabbed his hands and pushed them back with a stern look, ignoring the raised brows of students as they passed by for the door. 

‘Hard pass, I’m afraid. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ Arthur said and turned around to see Alfred standing only about a metre behind him, looking awed. 

Arthur’s tongue was suddenly very thick in his mouth, his throat too closed to draw enough air to speak. Neither of them said anything. They just gazed at each other as though not seeing the other for a long time. Somewhere far off, Francis quietly excused himself out.

‘Hey, Arthur,’ Alfred croaked before he cleared his throat to try again. ‘Hey, uh- I’m super- It’s good to see you.’

Good lord, Arthur was not prepared for the wave of heat that hit him from hearing his voice again. ‘L-likewise,’ He managed to stammer in reply. Get a grip! ‘You look…well.’

Alfred gave an adorable nervous laugh as he rubbed the back of his head. ‘Yeah. I’ve kinda been working out,’ He said with a small secretive smirk before his face turned semi-serious. ‘When we split up, you got out alright, yeah?’

‘Oh. Yes. You?’ Arthur returned and felt his heart speed up when a light danced behind Alfred’s eyes. 

‘Yeah! Arthur you wouldn’t believe it, Britannia saved me! He was totally amazing, like the bravest person in the world, putting my life over his. And man, don’t even get me started on how awesome his powers were!’ 

Arthur had to turn away and pretend to burst into a violent coughing fit for fear that Alfred would see how red he was. ‘That’s great.’ He choked. 

‘Uh-huh. So, like how was your dad’s?’ Alfred asked obliviously, and Arthur’s fit stopped as shortly as it had started. 

He’d never given such a cover story to Alfred. A lightbulb flashed as he realised that Matthew likely passed on the information when his brothers had announced it. However, by deduction, that meant that Alfred must of asked after him. The realisation gave him a pleasant hum in his chest. 

‘How did you know that I was at my father’s?’ He asked regardless for appearances’ sake, and for the thrill of confirmation. 

Alfred sheepishly scratched his nose. ‘Uh, I kinda checked by your place after it all. Allistor answered the door and told me.’

A line immediately formed between Arthur’s brows. That couldn’t be right. Allistor would have told him that Alfred had stopped by, wouldn’t have he? A coil squirmed in his stomach at the thought of Alfred having only a wall between Columbia and himself as Britannia, bleeding out and heavily sedated. Bloody hell, what if no one had cleaned up his blood that had dripped onto the carpet and Alfred had seen it?

Arthur shuddered at the mental scene of Alfred pushing his way into the penthouse and stumbling upon him and Columbia. 

No. He could never allow Alfred to get that close again. 

‘I see,’ He forced himself to say with a strained smile. ‘nice to know you care so much.’

‘Of course I do Arthur! When you ran out on me, I was freaking losing it!’ Alfred exclaimed, and Arthur was suddenly very conscious of how close they were, about half a ruler’s length. It forced Arthur to look up to maintain eye contact. 

They were getting very, _very_ close.

‘I was so worried, I— I was so scared.’ Alfred continued, his voice dropping to a low mumble, his lips hardly moving as they spoke, his eyes half lidded. 

They drew closer still. 

Arthur didn’t try to hide the colour of his cheeks now, the only thing he could think of was Alfred. Alfred, and how now their chests were inches from touching, hearts beating hard, in harmony inside their bone cages. 

‘Why?’ Alfred breathed.

‘I couldn’t let you get hurt,’ Arthur whispered, so quiet you could of almost missed it. The air between them was seemingly charged with electricity, tangible and alive. ‘I couldn’t.’

Their breaths were intermingled, heated shared breaths exchanged between the two. 

‘Arthur.’ Alfred rumbled, and before he could second guess himself, Arthur moved and pressed their lips together. 

A soft sound, a breathy groan left Alfred’s throat as Arthur moulded against him, hands sliding up into his hair to pull him deeper into the kiss; Alfred’s breath tasting like morning coffee, blueberries and peppermint. Alfred’s hands came to rest lightly around his waist, relishing in the sharp sweetness of the kiss’s crescendo. It was only when the need for air became too great to ignore, did they break apart. 

Their chests rose and fall in tandem. Arthur stared up at Alfred, fiercely red, and Alfred stared back at him; just looking at him. Neither quite believing what they had just done.

‘That was—’

‘Arthur I—’ They uttered at the same time, and their blushes deepened. Alfred broke off the eye contact with a dip of his head and cleared his throat. 

‘I don’t know what to say.’

Arthur was having trouble himself forming a thought; his head felt so blissfully light and his pink lips tingled with the fresh memory of Alfred’s on them.

‘I’m quite taken for breath as well.’ Arthur said with an airy laugh, when an anchor yanked on his heart at the sight of Alfred’s furrowed brows. 

‘No, I mean, I’m not sure how I— I’m confused.’ Alfred confessed, his eyes distant and conflicted, fighting an inner battle within himself. 

‘Oh.’ An icicle impaled itself into Arthur’s heart, and his hands dropped away. He took a step back, reinstating the distance between them. 

Alarm shot across Alfred’s face and he reached out to grip Arthur’s hand. ‘No! I didn’t mean that as like a rejection. I— I liked the kiss. Hell, I _really_ liked the kiss, Arthur. But…my head’s in a kind of weird place right now,’ Alfred pleaded, an legitimate edge of desperation cracking his words. 

‘Could I just, have some time to get it together?’

Arthur gave a small nod with an even smaller smile. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for. But it was better the alternative, and if what Alfred needed was space to be sure of what he wanted, then Arthur could wait.

Alfred’s grateful smile lit up the room, suspending time for a single second, before a tinny buzzing resounded. Recognising it as his ringtone, Alfred shrugged off his backpack, giving it to Arthur to hold whilst he rooted through it. 

‘Lemme just take this, and do you, I dunno want to go for lunch or something?’ Alfred asked as he pulled out the mobile.

Arthur nodded again, considerably more enthusiastic than his earlier one. A lunch date sounded amazing. Alfred flashed him a quick grin before he wandered towards the back of the classroom to take his call. 

His space his own again, Arthur sighed and looked down at the rucksack he still held, pressing his lips together at the hefty weight of it. Just what exactly did Alfred have in here?

A brief glance to check that Alfred had his back to him, Arthur unzipped the bag wider to look inside, and frowned when he saw a sizeable yellow file inside. Silently, he slipped out the file, turning it over curiously before he opened it, and went cold.

Yao Wang’s picture stared back at him, attached by paperclip to a document detailing information on the man’s underworld business empire; lists of shipping networks, lists of known yakuza members, known sightings, allies and connections.

Arthur saw red. 

His hands shook, unbridled wrath rising up inside him like an ugly venomous snake. Columbia had Alfred involved. Columbia had had Alfred investigate Wang and put together these files on him. Shit! What the bloody hell else had Columbia involved him with?   
****

A terrible thought dawned upon Arthur: what if Columbia had assigned Alfred to gather info on the Winter Syndicate? And that was the reason why they had placed the hit on his head. Alfred had gotten too close, and the Syndicate had assigned an assassin to him before he could relay the information.

**_Columbia._ **

**_He_** **_had_** **_fucking_ _trusted him._**

Not trusting himself to keep his composer in front of Alfred, to keep up the play act that he was completely ignorant of his… _dealings,_ Arthur shoved the files back into the bag and stormed out of the lecture hall, slamming the door shut behind him. Alfred’s surprised calls echoed after him and tears stung his eyes as he broke into a run, pushing past the swarms of students for the door leading outside.   
****

_He had trusted him._


	16. The Jasmine Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16 and oooh boy, my ass wasn't the only one kicked writing this chapter.
> 
> I would like to say how amazing everyone has been during the wait. People have been posting such lovely reviews that I literally squeal over whenever I read them, even when I haven't been particularly active. You guys are the real heroes here.
> 
> Want to check out cool art that inspired this story, like Britannia's suit, or want to ask me a question or send a prompt?
> 
> Find me at lollipoplou.tumblr.com!
> 
> Now without further ado, I present you lovelies with chapter 16.
> 
> Hold onto your butts. It's gonna be crazy ride :)

Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 Spades District, 221 Baker’s Street, The Kirkland Residence.

 ‘He just totally ditched me! No goodbye, no ‘ _Sorry love, left the crumpets in the oven too long~_ ’, Nada! Nothing!,’ Alfred Jones whined with a pout as he and Matthew stepped in the Kirkland’s lobby lift; Reina at the front desk shooting them a nod before sending the button to send them up. ‘Totally ditched me, right after I invited him to get some lunch to.’

 Matthew rolled his eyes. ‘You mean after you two kissed?’ He clarified with a touch of snark. When Alfred didn’t reply, keeping his eyes fixed onto his reflection, Matthew followed up with a sigh. 

‘So you like Kirkland now? I thought you were in love with Britannia.’

‘I _am_ in love with Britannia. I just— I think I have feelings for Arthur as well.’

‘ _Uh-huh._ ’

Alfred glared at him. ‘It’s complicated, okay?’

‘I’ll say,’ Matthew huffed as the lift doors opened with a _ping!_ ‘couldn’t you just date Arthur as Alfred, and Britannia as Columbia?’

‘No! I’d never even think of going behind either of their backs! C’mon, Matt. They deserve so much better than that.’ Alfred scolded before he gave a hard rap on the front door. No sooner had he done, the two brothers shared a look when there was the muted sound of shouting from the inside. They jumped when the door cracked open to reveal Dylan looking pale.

‘Get your bloody hands off me!’

‘You need to calm down.’ Allistor’s voice came smooth and authoritative to no avail.

‘I’ll calm down when I’ve smashed his shins in!’

‘Uh, hey guys. Maybe now’s not the best time.’ Dylan greeted with a strained smile.

Matthew peeked onto his tiptoes to try to see into the penthouse. ‘Is that Britannia? Is he hurt?’

Alfred needed no more persuasion and ignored Dylan’s protests as he pushed into the apartment to see Allistor pinned against the floor over beside the dining table by Britannia. 

‘You!,’ Britannia shot off Allistor when he saw Columbia and stalked forward to grip the collar of his suit and slam him against the window. ‘How could you!’

‘What— are you—talking about?’ Alfred grunted around the tight grip. 

‘Save it, Arthur told me everything. Why the _fuck_ does Alfred Jones have investigation files on Yao Wang?!’

Oh. 

Oh no.

‘Fuck.’ 

‘Fuck’s right you cockered gimp!,’ Britannia growled, reaching onto his tiptoes to shove his face into Alfred’s personal space. ‘so I suggest you explain yourself snappiness.’

‘Hold on. What?!,’ Matthew shrilled looking between him and Britannia with saucepan eyes. ‘You failed to mention that!’

‘Matt—’ Alfred tried but Britannia cut him off with throttle.

‘God, I could _ring_ your bloody neck! What the hell were you thinking? A college student, Columbia!’

‘Matthew is a college student. You’ve never had a problem with him.’ Alfred argued and cried out when his feet were swept out from under him. His head smacked back painfully against the floor as Britannia straddled his chest.

‘You had him investigate Wang, and you had him investigate the Winter Syndicate! Admit it!’

Alfred stared up at him, bewildered. ‘What? No I didn’t.’

‘How else did he get that information then without field work?’ Britannia hissed, applying pressure with his elbow against Alfred’s thorax. 

‘I didn’t do it!’ Alfred insisted and flinched when Britannia tightened his grip on his collar and lifted him up to slam him back against the floor.

‘The Syndicate placed a hit, a _fucking hit_ on him!,’ The Brit shrieked. ‘That Lucid child from the university? He was there for him. Alfred nearly _died_ because of you!’

Alfred closed his eyes with an exhale. 

Wrong. The Syndicate had placed a hit on his head because Doctor Braginsky had seen him as Alfred with Arthur at the Mia Everson exhibit. He had tried to have him killed to get to Arthur, and by extension, Britannia. And of course, Alfred could clarify none of this without immediately raising suspicion on how he could know this. To confess it would be to confess his secret identity.

The grip on his collar loosened, Britannia’s head bowed down. ‘Why are you even doing this, Columbia?’ He muttered, barely audible. 

Alfred’s heart was a dead weight in his chest. ‘To rescue the missing neuroscientists. To protect Terra, same as you.’

‘No,’ There was no warmth, no emotion in Britannia’s tone, and it made Alfred’s flesh break into goosebumps. ‘why _are_ you doing this?,’

A pause. Britannia leant in sinisterly close. ‘Is it the attention? Is it the thrills? The kicks?’

Something ugly rose up from Alfred’s gut and coiled it into knots. He grabbed Britannia by the shoulder and rolled his hips to reverse their positions, Britannia’s back hitting the floor with a hard smack as he was pinned beneath him. 

‘You don’t have a god damn clue.’ Alfred heard himself snarl as he bared down upon the Brit with more force than strictly necessary. 

But if Britannia was hurting, he didn’t show it. ‘Does it stroke your obnoxious ego, playing the hero?’ He spat back, and Alfred let go as though he’d be electrocuted. 

Was— was _that_ what Britannia actually thought of him? That all the hero work he’d down had been some— some massive _ego stroke?_ Did he really have such a low opinion of him?

‘I became Columbia because you—you inspired me to be. Because to me, you were everything a hero should be. You stood up for the little guy, even when there was no one to stand with you. I…wanted to stand with you,’ Alfred bit down his lip to stop it from trembling. ‘Everything I’ve done, _everything_ , has been for you.’

There was a deadly still silence. The room’s temperature had seemingly plummeted to a shivering chill.

Britannia stared up at him, right there in front of him, but  simultaneously, farther then he had ever been.

‘Get out of my sight.’

The words didn’t register to Alfred’s brain, and he mutely stared back struck. 

What?

‘Come on lad.’ Someone, Allistor, softly encouraged him to standing, and— and then they outside the front door; Matthew was at his side.

Alfred slowly blinked at the Scot. ‘That…that’s it? That can’t be it.’

Dark copper brows were furrowed as Allistor Kirkland crossed his forearms with a regrettable sigh. ‘There’s nothing I can do. It’s Britannia’s call.’ 

Alfred blinked again. ‘But, but Wang. The scientists.’

‘I’m sorry Columbia. But my hands are tied,’ Allistor admitted with a heavy heart; the familiar green brightness behind his eyes, dull. ‘Good luck lads. God knows we’re gonna need it.’ 

With that, Allistor shut the door with a low click, shutting Alfred and Matthew out of their home, and their lives. 

* * *

 

Downtown Spades District, Cyan Apartments, Alfred Jones’ and Matthew William’s Apartment.

Alfred didn’t recall the drive back to their place, nor the climb up three fleets of stairs or even actually entering the apartment. His feet had dragged and tripped up on nothing, and whatever he looked at, he didn’t truly look at it so much as stared through it. 

He had numbly felt Matthew ease him onto their moth bitten couch and heard the soft hiss and pop of two cans being opened. The can was pressed into his hands, his fingers automatically wrapping around the cold tin cylinder, but Alfred didn’t have the will of express a form of thanks. 

‘I can’t believe it’s over,’ Matthew sighed from the cramped kitchen counter. ‘Just like that, back to business as usual. Regular, old patrols. No objectives, no special missions. Nothing…It feels kinda, empty,’

When Alfred made no comment, Matthew continued, his rambling filling the harrowing, empty space between them. ‘Well, I mean, now that we have some free time, we could maybe consider the Guardian’s prospect. Or, or, we could just take some time off, you know? Focus on getting your grades back up, put crime fighting on the back burner and get back to being just broke college students.’

The prospect of looking back to what they once were, after having a small, but-oh-so-glorious taste of what they could be, made Alfred mentally recoiled. His can hit the side table with firm resolve. 

No. They might be down, but goddammit they were not out.

‘No. No, screw that. Screw this,’ Alfred gritted and shot up off the couch, the floorboards creaking. ‘We are not gonna be benched on a case we practically made!’

Matthew’s jaw dropped. ‘You aren’t serious.’

Alfred cracked his knuckles, grinning at the new fire in his belly. ‘We can totally do it. We’ve done our research, we know that Wang is the one kidnapping the scientists. We just need to find the clues to where they are being kept.’

‘Um, small detail. What about Britannia? I doubt he’ll be chuffed to see you after telling you to keep away.’ Matthew reminded with a raised brow, and Alfred sighed. 

‘Yeah, I know. He was being a A-class a-hole back there, just making accusations when he doesn’t know the whole story.’

‘Why do I feel like there’s a “but” in here?’

‘I still love him Matt. I do, and I’m don’t know if that’ll ever change. I don’t know if I want it too…But I wanna be with him, as his equal, so I’m not just roll over whenever he says to. Britannia needs us, and hell if I’m going to let him down now.’

Matthew considered him with crossed arms. ‘You’re hopeless, you know that?’

Alfred winked at him and offered a fist bump. ‘I do. Got my back bro?’

Matthew scoffed and bumped his fist. ‘Always.’ 

* * *

 

Hearts District, Red Light District, A backstreet alley near The Jasmine Dragon.

The rain thick and fast against the window of Seamus Kirkland’s rover, creating a watery veil that hid away the winking neon lights of the streets beyond. Britannia traced a particularly fat raindrop with his index as it slid down tinted glass, ignoring the incessant tapping of his brother’s finger on the wheel. The two of them hadn’t spoken since Columbia had left the apartment. Britannia hadn’t spoken to anyone since Columbia had left the apartment.

Beside him, Seamus let out a deep sigh and glanced at the dash clock, Britannia mirrored the action; it was midnight, time to move. 

‘It’s not too late to call Columbia.’ Seamus offered when Britannia unlatched his seatbelt.

‘No.’ He stated without negotiation.

‘Columbia and Acadia is part of this team. They should be here.’

‘I will _not_ work with the man that almost got Alfred killed. He didn’t even try to deny it.’

‘It’s— more complication than that.’ Seamus confessed, and Britannia snapped his head over to him; the icicle that had impaled itself into his heart, courtesy of Columbia, twisted in deeper. 

‘You knew.’ He hissed and got all the confirmation he needed when he saw Seamus’ face fall.

‘Arthur…’

‘Seems everyone’s got a knife for my back nowadays.’ Britannia growled as he kicked open the door and stepped out into the cold downpour, cutting Seamus’ follow up shout short with a slam. Equally grateful and resentful of the reduced visibility the rain brought about, Britannia clung to the shadows of the back streets as he prowled his way toward the end of the district’s promenade where the Jasmine Dragon towered above all other buildings.

The seven tier Chinese pagoda existed on a small island just off the coast of the Heart’s District; lit up brightly by red and pink ground lights to contrast against the dark backdrop of the night sky and pitch black waters. As Britannia drew closer, breaking away from the urban concrete pavements and streets to crawl through asian influenced decorative foliage, he peered down to the cliffside station where he saw multiple metal gondolas the size of small buses simultaneously leave and enter; the exiting one traveling diagonally down via wire to the foregrounds of island where an identical rail station received them.

Gravel shifted and scattered beneath his boots as he slid downhill and rolled into cover behind the small hut which he could only assume held the operating controls for the sky rail. Back pressed to the brick wall, he paused to listen for any indication of alarm before peering around the edge to assert that the scene was all clear. Security had clearly no care for the weather and retreated to dryer conditions.

Britannia stayed in his crouch, and when a carriage passed parallel to his position, he tucked and rolled through it’s open doorway. The metal groaned as it’s weight distribution was shifted with the addition of Britannia’s, and Britannia had just tucked himself into a corner to wait out the ride when to his great surprise, and annoyance, the comm in his mask turned on with a _bleep!_

‘I think you hurt Éire’s’ feelings.’ Allistor’s voice crackled with static, and Britannia ground his teeth together.

‘You know, I was almost certain I disabled the comm link before I left.’ He retorted with curt sarcasm, peeping over the ledge to see that he was about halfway to the island. 

Allistor sighed, and Britannia could practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Britannia, you can’t just push away the people who care about you.’ 

‘Funny. I’ll keep that in mind when I find some.’ 

‘ _Britannia_.’

‘Oh please, Éire will get over it.’ Britannia scoffed.

‘I’m not talking about just Éire,’ Allistor clarified and green eyes rolled.

‘Not you to.’

‘Columbia deserves to be part of this team Britannia. Without him, we wouldn’t of even known about Wang’s involvement. I completely get why you’re upset about _him_ —’

‘ _Upset!’_ Britannia screeched, feeling as though the word couldn’t come close to describing how he felt, but Allistor ignored the outburst and continued on. 

‘But Columbia is not a bad person, and past all this that you’re feeling right, you know that you _do_ care about him.’ 

Britannia pressed his lips together, holding his silence for a moment more. ‘But I care about _him_ more,’ He stated truthfully and the gondola shuddered as it slowed to pull into island station. 

‘Where am I going Saxony?’ 

‘The commercial faculties are all above ground. My best bet would to start your search in the warehouse underground.’ Allistor instructed and Britannia nodded as he dashed out of the moving carriage and station to skit around the stone foundation of the pagoda, seeking an entry point. His patience was rewarded when he spotted a half concealed trapdoor beside a back entrance, presumably the staff’s. 

Britannia approached cautiously, constantly on guard as he knelt and pulled a lock pick from his belt. Twenty seconds pasted (a new low for him. Mother would be rolling in her grave) before the padlock dropped to the grass and Britannia flung away the chain and carefully eased himself inside. 

The stairwell led further down underground, the air damp and stale, before the stone floors gave way to cement and opened up to a colossal warehouse; vast space of the storage room filled with towering metal shelves like that of a library, each one holding wooden crates upon crates of unknown content. 

Aware that there could indeed be others just out of sight around the shelves, Britannia crept froward to where a pile of crates had been half loaded onto a forklift. A line formed between thick brows when he noticed the bright blue emblem of the Spades district painted onto the top of the loose lid, and he grabbed it and lifted it away to look inside.

Britannia had busted enough smugglers and drug dealers to know a crate of drugs looked when he saw one. The crate was packed to the brim with clear packets of fine white powder, and when Britannia set aside the lid and picked up a packet to read it’s label, he went stiff. 

The single letter ‘X’ stared back at him mockingly, and Britannia knew that he didn’t have to look in the crate again to come to the conclusion that the packets inside shared the share label. Twisting his head, his stomach dropped saw that other crates amongst the loaded pile had been similarly branded, only instead of the blue spade; there was a yellow diamond, a green club and a red heart. All the hands of Terra. A stone formed in the pit of his stomach. 

Wang intended to launch ‘X’ in each district. The awful symptoms and patient case files flashed through Britannia’s mind and a chill rode through him. Only, this was of a different kind. This chill was familiar, and it gave him all the warning he needed to pivot, wrench back the hand that reached for him, and judo throw it’s owner over his hip. 

Not allowing the perpetrator a second to catch his breath, Britannia crushed his knee down against the man’s Adam’s apple and pulled his fist back to punch his lights out.

‘Woah! Hey! Hey, hey! Stop! Hey, it’s me!’ Columbia rasped around the pressure applied to his throat, the all american idiot frantically waving his hands to make Britannia falter. 

What the—?!

Disbelief corroded to anger and rather than relaxing, Britannia applied more pressure. ‘What are you _doing_ here?’ He growled, unable to resist his lips from curling when the american gave a high squeak of fear.

‘Just— come on, dude— just, please hear me out.’ 

After a few seconds of consideration, Britannia eased up on the force, feeling Columbia’s pulse race beneath his gloves. ‘There, now _talk_.’

Columbia glanced down suggestively at his knee that pinned him, and sighed when Britannia made no more moves to remove it. ‘Okay. I’m here to find the neuroscientists.’

‘That is no longer any of your business.’ Britannia hissed.

‘It became my business when we broke into N.O.V.A and I lifted the damn door that got us this lead,’ Columbia countered with raised brows. When Britannia didn’t immediately follow up, he pressed his advance, placing a hand on the Brit’s knee and using his strength to easily pry it off him. ‘Look, I know you’ve got your issues with me. But I’m here now, and we’d find the neuroscientists a hell of a lot faster together then apart.’

As much as Britannia craved to smack his stupid face, he reluctantly acknowledged that Columbia’s reasoning was too sound to argue. With deliberate slowness, he straightened up and off Columbia to allow him to do the same.

‘All these crates contain ‘X’ and one of the district deck symbols,’ Britannia stated, nodding to said pile. ‘Wang’s clearly preparing to launch them onto the market.’ 

‘Yeah, so we know where the drugs are being kept, but where are the scientists?’ Columbia questioned with his brows drawn together. 

‘Other than this warehouse, there’s nowhere else Wang could be keeping them in this building to have a production of this scale.’ Matthew’s voice popped with static over the shared channel. 

‘Aye. He must have them in a safe house nearby.’ Allistor agreed with a hum and Columbia chewed his lower lip.

‘But the drugs are here, ready to go out. There’s gotta be some of kind of record of where and when they came in. Wang’s a shady businessman right? He’s has to keep track of his stock.’ The American deduced, and Britannia was surprised he hadn’t come to the same conclusion first. But _of course_ there’d be a stock list. 

‘I doubt the record would be digital. I suspect that any confidential papers would be kept in Wang’s private quarters, likely under lock and key to.’ Britannia agreed. 

‘Acadia?’ Columbia requested, and there was the sound of frantic tapping on a keyboard.

‘There’s a service elevator in the kitchen that’ll take you to the corridor that connects to Wang’s suite. The door to your right leads the kitchen.’ Came his answer.

Columbia turned to Britannia with an extended hand. ‘Truce?’

Britannia regarded the hand, but made no move to take it. ‘Temporary truce.’ He icily corrected and breezed past the American. 

* * *

 

That could of gone better, Alfred Jones admitted to himself as he followed Britannia’s lead to sink low into a crouch as they approached the door to the kitchen. Sure, Britannia had tackled him to the ground ( _again_ ), but then, again maybe he should thought about that when he’d snuck up on him. 

Alfred was of two minds about what he should do. He desperately wanted to clear the bad air between them so that they could go back to the way they had been; back to when Alfred had been making progress with his advances. But given the way Britannia had pinned him to the ground and threatened him _twice,_ Alfred knew that this was something Britannia would not let go easily. 

 He had never seen Britannia that pissed before, so it boggled him as to why. Why was he so _specifically_ hung up on him as Alfred being put in danger? To say that he was because of Arthur and his feelings toward him felt off. At least, it _would_ if Britannia’s feelings toward Arthur were purely platonic… 

Shit.

It all completely made sense as well; Britannia’s protectiveness over him when the school was attacked. He had been protecting him because he knew that Arthur liked him, and now he hated Columbia because he thought he was the reason that the Winter Syndicate had placed a hit on him. 

 _Of course_ Britannia liked Arthur. They’d grown up together, they were both insanely talented, and strong and brave and beautiful and— and…

Alfred repressed the urge to smash his head against the kitchen door as Britannia eased it open.

What had he ever done to deserve this?

The large spotless kitchen was empty when Britannia peeked around the preparation counter and signalled the all clear. The service elevator was an old kind, with a triangle netted door you’d more likely see in a delict building rather than a high-rise entertainment theatre. Columbia stepped in after Britannia, pulling the door shut behind him and hit the first button. 

The metal grated and groaned as the elevator began to ascend, and Columbia’s stomach was heavy with the happier memory of the last time they had been in an elevator shaft together. 

‘Just because we’re cooperating on this, doesn’t change anything between us.’ Britannia broke the thick silence with his arms crossed, refusing to look at him.

Alfred sighed ‘B—’

‘No. You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.’

‘Jeez! When are you going to stop acting like I killed someone?’

‘You might as well of.’ Britannia riposted with the same earlier frigidness, and Alfred had had enough. He grabbed the Brit by the shoulders and forced him to look at him. 

‘That is it! Look at me! _Really_ look at me, Britannia. Do I really look like I’m a bad guy?’ Alfred exclaimed, shaking the smaller man to cause his head to bang wildly.

Britannia threw off his hands. ‘Piss off! You say that everything you’ve done has been for my sake?  Are you really so blind to think that that is acceptable? Don’t make me laugh.’ He spat, and the dam that was Alfred’s temper broke. 

‘God! I’m not the blind one here Britannia, you are! How I not see? How can _you_ not see?! I don’t just want to be like you, _I want to be with you!_ I’m freaking in love you! You’re my hero, I’ve wanted to tell you that for so long, that I love you, and- and…,’ Alfred realised that his shoulders were shaking, not with anger, but relief. To finally confess the words that he had kept a secret lifted a weight off his heart that he hadn’t known he’d been carrying. 

‘I love you,’ He repeated softer, lower than before, and glanced up from the floor to see that Britannia was deadly still; so much so that Alfred hasn’t sure if he was even breathing. ‘uh, Britannia? I—’ He tried, when the lift doors opened too early to reveal a group of four men in suits. 

‘So I said, “That’s the waaaayy it goes—’ One of them trailed off as both parties stared at each other for a second of stunned silence. 

And then everything moved.

‘Oi!’ The nearest one to the lift managed to get out before Alfred’s fist connected against his chest, and launched him back into the others; sending them scattering down like tenpin bowling pins.

Alfred looked down to his clenched fist and then back to Britannia, who stared back. 

‘Run?’

‘Run.’ Britannia agreed, and they ran. 

The floor the lift had stopped at led out onto a high catwalk of red wood, where below it, an luxurious sushi bar bustled; the chatter of dining clients, clink of plates and soft mellow music wafting up. 

‘Okay! You’re going to want to stay straight until you get to the second set of stairs ,’ Matthew instructed, the wooden planks creaking under their boots as they ran. ‘that will take you up to where you can catch another elevator to Wang’s floor.’

‘You got it Acadia—’

 ‘Columbia get down!’ Britannia cried and Alfred felt all of his breath exit his lungs when he was tackled from behind, narrowly missing the bullet that whistled over his head. 

‘Intruders! Sound the alarm!’ The gunman ahead of them that held a smoking silenced pistol called over his shoulder and Alfred heard the thumping of hurried footsteps.

‘We can’t let ourselves get cornered here.’ Britannia warned as they clambered to their feet, the Brit stretching out a hand and with a swipe, telepathically wretched out of the gunman’s hand to send it spinning to the restaurant below.

‘Yeah, easier said than done, dude,’ Alfred grimaced as more thugs filtered onto the catwalk from both sides; reminding him of that killer scene from Kill Bill, he just hoped there was no ‘Go-go’ among them. ‘I don’t see a way out without wrecking these fools.’ 

‘Then let’s make short work of this.’ Britannia declared, his confidence spending a delicious shiver down Alfred’s spine. This was how he dreamt it would be. He and Britannia back to back against the world.

‘Yeah! Come at me bro!’ He bellowed as the first thug charged at him. Easily sidestepping the man, Alfred grabbed him by the cuff and spun him around to fling him back the way he’d came. The man crashed into the one behind him, and even as the two collapsed in a heap, Alfred felt himself break into a ridiculous grin. 

Heck yeah! He could do this all day, he thought as he caught an incoming punch with his own fist and threw it wide to off balance the offender. He shoved the man’s side to knock him back, and half turned to see if Britannia had noticed how much ass he was kicking, when it all fell apart.

‘Columbia your flank!’ Britannia gasped too late when a well built yakuza crunched their shoulder into Alfred’s abdomen in a hard shoulder tackle. ‘Columbia!’ Britannia reached out to him, but the tackler’s momentum was unstoppable as it carried them over the catwalk’s ledge. 

Suspension.

 And then, 

 

Gravity.

* * *

 

‘Columbia!’ Britannia cried out, too far away to catch the American before he dropped over the ledge, and winced when he heard the shatter of glass and follow up screams of the diners below.  

The screech of another attack brought his attention back to the catwalk, and Britannia parried an upcoming kick before retaliating by crunching his elbow into the thug’s nose. He box kicked him square in the chest before he spun and sprang off the railing after Columbia. 

Britannia rolled with the impact and was back on his feet to charge at the yakuza that was standing over Columbia’s flax boy with a broken bottle in his hand with a roar. The distraction was enough to make the man freeze, and Britannia kicked off the long bar to clip him across the jaw and snap it sideways. 

The man lurched, reeling back to recover ground, but Britannia was on him. He ducked under the yakuza’s slash, and caught the second, twisting the wrist around to smash the broken glass into unusable pieces against the bar top. 

The victory was short and sweet though as the man’s freehand grabbed him by his hood to fling him away. Britannia’s feet tripped over themselves when the man lunged forward to bash one of the metal bar stools into his side. The Brit cried out as his arm jarred and braced for a follow up strike before Columbia reared up behind the yakuza to lock him in a chokehold. 

Floundering, the asian man forced them both to back-pedal and bang Columbia’s back against the restaurant’s stereo into the wall. 

‘This is Heart Radio, and this is the Buzzcock’s ‘Ever fallin’ in love’ for all you pining souls out there! 

_‘You spurn my natural emotions,_

_You make me feel I’m dirt_

_and I’m hurt,’_

The man crunched his elbow into Columbia’s side to draw a tight grunt of pain, and seeing his chance, Britannia bolted forward to ram his knee into the man’s exposed stomach.

_‘And if I start a commotion_

_I run the risk of losing you_

_and that’s worse,’_

The yakuza choked as he reared forward and then snapped his head back into Columbia’s nose; the American letting go with a howl and was unable to stop the brutal backhand that struck Britannia back.

_‘Ever fallin’ in love with someone_

_Ever fallin’ in love, in love with someone_

_In love with someone_

_You shouldn’t have fallen in love with?’_

Jaw throbbing, Britannia’s head was too full of fog to properly block the flurry of blows that their attacker unleashed upon him. He staggered back, the bar’s edge digging into the small of his back when the man grabbed the front of his suit to lift him off his feet and slam him down hard against the counter.

_‘I can’t see much of a future_

_Unless we find out what’s to blame_

_what a shame,’_

Britannia wheezed, desperately trying to draw air back into his lungs, and shouted when the man grabbed his head and smacked it back against the counter again. Lights exploded behind Britannia’s eyes, and it took everything he had to catch the man’s fist going for his jugular. He locked it straight, straining his feet against the man’s shoulder to keep it that way before he struck the elbow up with a _crack!_ to break the bone.

_‘And we won’t be together much longer_

_Unless we realise that we_

_are the same,’_

‘ARRGH!’ The man screeched and swung wide when Columbia charged into his flank, grabbing him by his wirily hair to do as he had done to Britannia, and slam his head into the bar; the man refusing to go limp until Columbia repeated the action with more force.

_‘Ever fallin’ in love with someone_

_Ever fallen in love, in love with someone_

_Ever fallin’ in love,_

_in love with someone_

_you shouldn’t have fallin’_

_in love with~’_

‘Britannia, are you alright?’ Britannia groggily heard Columbia pant as he leaned over to help him with an offered hand. The American looked awful, a thick trail of blood ran from his bruised nose and he sported a horribly swollen cheek and split lip; Britannia dreaded to think what their backs and ribs looked like. Allistor was going to kill them.

 His head hated him as he pushed himself to slide off the bar, gasping when the simple action ignited sparks of pain all over his back and made his brain feel like liquid in his skull. 

‘Just peachy.’ He slurred through clenched teeth before he reflexively grabbed onto Columbia’s shoulder when the floor swayed under him. 

‘Woah! Hey! B! Stay with me!’ Columbia exclaimed as he caught him the moment his knees threatened to buckle.

‘I’m—That bastard may of hit my head harder than I thought,’ Britannia gingerly admitted, gratefully leaning into Columbia’s touch when he wrapped an arm around his waist and hooked his arm over his shoulders. ‘If we could find a quiet place where I could heal my concussion.’

‘No prob B, your hero is here to save the day!’ Columbia grinned and then winced at the pain it caused to his face. Using his herculean strength, he practically carried all of Britannia’s bodyweight as he led them toward the askew paper door left open when all the diners had fled the scene. 

‘That’s all you ever seem to do, save my sorry arse.’ Britannia muttered with his head hung, suppressing the nausea that rolled over him in waves. 

‘Well, you know, I don’t mind it at all.’ Columbia sheepishly replied, and Britannia glanced up to him to see that his cheeks weren’t red solely from the bruising. 

Ah. Right. Before they’d been thrown into it all, Columbia had confessed to him. He had said that he _loved_ him…

‘Columbia, about what you said to me. Back in the elevator.’ Britannia tentatively prompted, and watched as the tips of Columbia’s ears turned red. 

‘Uh, um— yeah. C-could I maybe get like a do over with that? Things were kinda—tense, and I was shouting a lot and—’

‘What you said, was it true? Did you really mean it?’ Britannia cut off, and Columbia’s gentle grip tightened around him.

‘Of course I did.’ Columbia breathed, his voice softer than Britannia had ever heard it before, it’s quivered, vulnerability struck a cord inside him that went straight to his heart.

‘Col—’

‘There you are,’ An accented voice declared to cause Britannia and Columbia’s heads to snap forward and see a man central of the room of tatami mats and paper walls. The man was of asian descent, with short dark hair and equally dark eyes; a robe of jade green hung from his small and slender frame. ‘The intruders that has gotten everyone scrambling. But who would of thought that it would be the one whose caused my cousin so much grief? The infamous Britannia Angel himself, and his…lackey.’

‘The name’s Columbia, pal. Got it memorised?’ Columbia scowled as he eased his grip from around Britannia and manoeuvred himself to stand between them.

The jade man tutted and lowered himself into a low stance ‘I will make short work of an upstart like you.’ 

Columbia rolled his tense shoulder and sank into a stance of his own. ‘Think we can go for another round, B?’

Britannia suppressed the urge to groan at the thought of it, his head pounding in protest. It knew he wouldn’t be able to take another hit like before. ‘Let’s just get this over with.’ He gritted raising his own fists. 

 However before either of them could of moved, the ol’ reliable warning chill raised the hairs on the back of Britannia’s neck, and disoriented, he spun too late to avoid the butt of a handgun from cracking into his temple.  His body went limp, scarcely able to hear the thunder of yakuza men’s footsteps as they  flooded into the room over the ringing white noise inside his skull.

 Feeling as though his every limbs were made of lead, Britannia strained against his body to raise his head, and opened his mouth to croak a warning to Columbia as he saw the jade man close in, when a blindside kick to the head plummeted him into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sitting on a chair whilst my house burns around me* This is fine.
> 
> Ha, woo this was a quite the chapter to write, especially the action. God, how I have missed writing fighting actions. It's difficult, getting your choreography to translate onto paper, but I felt that it wasn't too shabby :)
> 
> Emotions this chapter were no sleaze either, even when writing it, I felt (considering just how much Alfred is in love with him) that Britannia with his 'Get out of my sight' was incredibly cruel, especially with Columbia's little 'Of course I did' later on.
> 
> The romance in this chapter was a rollercoaster; misunderstandings, Alfred near losing heart when he thought that Britannia was in love with Arthur, who he suspects he is also in love with alongside Britannia, Alfred breaking and confessing his true feelings, Britannia's intake of this and having no idea how to respond because of his feelings for Alfred. I do, however, love that when the shit hits the fan, they can put away all the drama and kick some serious ass.
> 
> Kudos to whoever spots the Rick and Morty reference, and hooooo boy I hope y'all ready for the angsty chapter coming next. Not even kidding, my writer's sadistic side was nonstop purring from just outlining it.
> 
> Look forward to it :)
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you are liking what you see and want to see faster updates, please consider taking the time to leave a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,
> 
> Until next time folks ;)


	17. And the Mask came off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17 and hoo, hoo does shit hit the fan in this one. I don't think I've ever written a chapter this intense or angsty, and honestly, I really feel like I need a lie down after it.
> 
> If you haven't already, be sure to check out my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lollipoplou where you can check out fan art has inspired the story, character playlists that I put together, and other fandom stuff :)
> 
> Without further ado, I present you, with chapter 17 of Down the Rabbit Hole!
> 
> Are you ready for the love square to be broken? ;)

Hearts District, Red Light District, The Jasmine Dragon.

Alfred wouldn't lie: things weren't great. Five guys on him, and a gun to Britannia's head (hung limp like the rest of him as he was dragged on ahead) that kept him from shaking them off as they were escorted up to the pagoda's grand staircase to the upmost levels.

Each level was progressively more luxurious and expensive than the last; they passed seclusive bars, dance theatre stages; sweat slick, beautiful young men and women that weaved to pulsing electric-swing in revealing lingerie. All smelt suffocatingly of thick, rich tobacco smoke that wafted up from extravagant hookahs, and dark eyes followed them as they were led through the dark dens.

'Acadia, can you hear me?' Alfred whispered as softly as he dared, but his only response was the scrambled static of a jammed comm. Wang's security had obviously been upgraded since the DIA had penned their intelligence report on it.

When they came to the top of the staircase, Alfred could not help but be awed at the magnificence of the hall that opened up before them. Well, to call it a mere hall would be an understatement; this, this was a throne room. Bordered by a high catwalk and jade columns, fierce golden dragons spiralled up the glossy stone, the throne room was lit aglow by hundreds of draping round red lanterns that hung above.

Alfred could feel the radiated hostility from the masked yakuza as they stood to attention when the man in the emerald robe strode past, leading the charge up to the elevated peacock throne of gold where the king sat waiting.

Yao Wang, yakuza crime lord of the underworld, was clothed in a crimson traditional Chinese and with his long black hair pulled back, Alfred might of mistaken him for a woman hadn't he already read his profile. A pretty asian girl was lounged over his lap, pawing at the priceless silk of his robe, and a trail of wispy smoke rose from the pearl pipe pursed between his thin lips as he deeply inhaled with closed eyes.

A grunt left Alfred when he was forced to his knees close to the foot of throne, a quick glance over saw the still slumped Britannia; the yakuza pressed the barrel of his pistol against the back of the Brit's head as though to warn Alfred to keep complacent.

'Brother. I present you, our intruders.' The jade man announced, and when Wang opened an lid to peer down at them, the pearl pipe dropped from his mouth with an expression of wonder.

'Is that?' Wang breathed, and icy water trickled down Alfred's spine at the glint of perverse glee in his eye as he gawked at Britannia.

The man in jade stepped to the side, allowing his boss for a better view of the captive. 'Indeed. The infamous Britannia Angel, unconscious for the time being.'

Wang carelessly pushed aside the girl on his lap as he stood up and glided down the steps, and Alfred imagined that if a snake were ever personified, it would take the shape of this man. With trembling hands, Wang reached forward and flipped off Britannia's hood to reveal his globe of choppy locks.

'Precious celestial gold,' Wang sighed as he carded his fingers through Britannia's hair before twisting them at the roots and wrenched his head up. 'How you've alluded me.'

'Hey! Let him go!' Alfred thrashed against the men holding him down, the zip-tie digging painfully against his wrists.

'Columbia. The pup of Terra's self righteous guard dogs.' Wang scoffed with hardly a look over to him.

'And you're Yao Wang, big bad crime lord and S rank douchebag. Great. Now that we know each other, why don't we skip to the part where you monologue the details of your evil plan.' Alfred jeered, aiming to keep Wang talking and distracted from Britannia.

Wang dropped Britannia's head with a chuckle and regarded him with the same distaste one would have finding a fly in their soup, 'Evil plan?,' He theatrically drew out the 'n', 'and what, pray tell, has given you the impression that I have such a dastardly scheme? I am but an honest entrepreneur, there is no fault with that.'

'We know that you're the one behind the neuroscientist kidnappings, Wang, and we know that you're using them to mass produce 'X'. We found the crates of it in your warehouse, so just give it up! Tell us where you're keeping Edelstein and the other scientists!.'

The crime lord's eyes darkened. 'I see. You _have_ been busy.' He sneered and made a pleased noise in his throat when Britannia stirred.

'Answer him.' The Brit slurred with difficulty, and Alfred grimaced as he imagined the killer headache he must have.

'It is a pleasure to see you again Britannia.' Wang purred as he rounded on him; a spider looming over a helpless butterfly caught in it's tangled web.

'We've…never met.' Britannia gritted through his teeth, obviously having trouble forming a sentence.

'Oh, but we have, you see. Though I must admit, the conditions were considerable different. You didn't have this mask on for one,'

Britannia went stiff, and Wang seized his chance to lean in and tauntingly trace his index along his jaw. 'And you had had that lovely shock collar on to,'

Wait,

_What?_

'You looked positively divine on that stage, Britannia. Bound, gagged, and yet, stubbornly fierce. Wild. Incorruptibly radiant. A true angel in chains,' Wang reminisced with the faraway look of a dreamer in love, 'how desperate I was to own you, but alas, the competition was too much. I did _so_ want you.'

'What—what are you talking about?' Alfred weakly heard himself blurt aloud, his whole body feeling quite numb and cold. As though snapping out of a trance, Britannia jerked away from Wang and the man gave a cruel laugh.

'He hasn't told you? Too ashamed to, I would wager. Afraid that if he does, you would not look at him the same. Understandably so, who could if they knew the truth? Of what really lies behind this mask,' Wang paused and tilted his head. 'Tell me, Columbia. What has Britannia told you about the one who wore the mask before him?'

'Mentor,' Alfred muttered, his lips feeling too chapped, too dry to properly move. 'She was his mentor.'

Wang made a thoughtful noise. 'A grave understatement to her character. See, she was a tricky woman, a cunning, dangerous woman. Yes, she was a mentor, but more than that, she was a mother.'

With that, Wang stared pointedly at Britannia, who stared back; apparently petrified into silence. Alfred's eyes went wide when he realised what Wang had insinuated.

No way.

'But make no mistake, the Britannia prima did not have Britannia to have a son. She conceived him to have an apprentice. She raised him to be a weapon.'

Alfred felt the blood drain from him and he looked over to Britannia, silently willingly him to deny it. But no such response came. A sadistic smile spread across Wang's face as he took in Alfred's lost expression.

'Does that surprise you, Columbia? Does it truly? Have you never considered why Britannia possesses such a _unique_ skill set?,'

Yes. Of course he had. He had from day one, but— maybe, maybe the reason he had never come to an answer, was because he had deliberately putting it off.

Deep down, in a small place that's existence he would deny, Alfred already knew why Britannia might have had all his extensive combat and stealth training. No one would train you from birth just to be a vigilante. No one would invest so much time and money into something that they wouldn't think they would one day make back.

Wang reached out again to tug back on Britannia's hair. 'You are pedigree, aren't you? She carefully saw to that. Specifically choosing to have your father to be a man that could provide impenetrable protection, The King of the Singapore underworld.'

Alfred glanced over when he heard Britannia give a sharp hiss. 'He is _not_ my father.'

'Oh lovely Britannia. If that were true, then I would have come for you a long time ago,' Wang sighed before turning back to Alfred.

'Now you see, Columbia, when you are in business with our special line of work, having a child is no small feat. Not only because no one expects to actually live long enough to have children, but because of the vulnerable position it places the parent in. The child of a powerful individual is powerful leverage, and it was the Winter Syndicate that had the balls to apply that logic to Britannia.'

'You mean—' Alfred gasped, and Wang nodded.

'It was brilliant plan on their part. They got close, and when the first Britannia was distracted, snatched Britannia here and spirited him halfway across the world to collar him like one of their lucid slaves to sell off to the highest bidder.'

Alfred's bile threatened to jump up his thorax. The very image, thought, _idea_ that that had happened to Britannia was...

'How— how can you speak about him as if, as if— Britannia's a human being, not some piece of _mechanise_ you can—'

'Weren't you listening?,' Wang sneered and yanked on Britannia's hair to draw a hiss from him. 'Britannia was begot by two lucid individuals powerful enough to be considered gods. He is a specimen, an angel breed to serve the gods of this world. That is what he is, and that is all he ever will be.'

The only thing worse than Wang's words, was Britannia's silence; how he had denied none of them. He actually believed what Wang was saying: that he wasn't human. He was nothing but weapon to be used, a knife to slit the throats of his master's enemies.

Something poisonous coiled deep in Alfred's gut, and rose up inside like a spitfire flame, setting every nerve aflame until it felt his very skin couldn't contain it's heat.

_How fucking **dare** they._

'As soon as I am out of this tie, I am coming for you, _Wang_ ,' Alfred heard his own voice growl; no, _snarl;_ pure venom with no antidote dripping from each syllable. 'I am coming for you, and I'm bringing the DIA with me. Germania is going to shut you down.'

Wang's smile immediately dropped and Alfred didn't flinch when he felt the barrel of the pistol that had been pressed against Britannia's head, transfer to his.

'So. Not only are you a mutt, but you are a tagged mutt.' Wang snapped and his brother drew the nearest yakuza's pistol and pointed it at Britannia.

'We should kill them now.'

'No!,' Wang screeched, his eyes bulging out of his sockets for the briefest of moments before he quickly cleared his throat to regain his composure. Alfred stared at him bewildered, completely baffled along with everyone else by the desperation they had all heard there.

'No,' He corrected himself, softer, more in control. 'Take them down to the live stock cells. I'll deal with them once I've decided how.'

* * *

Alfred had been combing the damp, four by four metre square cell for any rouge nails when he felt Britannia stir against him, 'So, when can I expect the cavalry to get here?' His voice thickly slurred with sarcasm, and he jolted when he tried to pull away, and discovered that they bound back to back by their wrists.

'Cavalry?,' Alfred frowned, eyes forward looking into the adjacent cell that was near pitch-black. 'Oh. You mean the DIA…Yeah, they're not. I was bluffing. They don't know I'm here.'

'Of course you were,' Britannia sighed and shuffled to get a better angle on the cuffs, tracing their outline, 'seems like a pretty important detail to mention, don't you think? An government agency approaching you.'

'Seriously? Like you can point a finger here? Back there with Wang, everything he said, you weren't denying any of it. Like it all true, which it can't be.' Columbia retaliated and got a dry, bitter laugh from the Brit.

'I did tell you that I had bad history with the Syndicate.'

'I'm glad you find this funny Britannia, because I'm not fucking laughing,' Alfred growled, his fists balled into shaking fists between them. 'Like, what the fuck! The actual _fuck!_ They freaking kidnapped you? And tried to _sell you!?_ A—and I don't even know where to begin with…with your mom.'

'Lost interest, have you? Now that you know how much baggage I come with.' Britannia half heartening teased with an indivisible glum smile that drew a hiss from Alfred.

'Baggage? That's not baggage, not even close. That is a steaming pile of shit, Britannia. A complete dump pile that I can't believe is actually real.'

'It doesn't matter if you believe or not. It's the truth, Columbia. That 'steaming pile of shit', as you so elegantly put, is my life.' Britannia curtly asserted.

'But, that stuff about your mom. There's no way any of that could have been true…Britannia, please tell me that it wasn't true.' Alfred begged, sounding pathetically like a child to his own ears.

'Had you asked a decade early, I would of be able to give you a definitive answer. She was only my mother back then…Now, knowing who she was, everything she put me through, had planned for me, I wouldn't put it past her if I was never just her son.'

An uncontrollable shiver rippled down Alfred's spine.

_Oh god._

'H—How could you live with that? Knowing that she saw you as a—Like— like come _on_ , B. ' He rasped, knowing that he just grasping for straws. He needed something, any kind of reassurance that Britannia's life wasn't the hell that had been described to him; that he had had some kind of normality, a chance to be, well, _human._

Britannia's shoulders brushed against his with a shrug. 'I never knew that I could have any different. That there could be more,'

A long, solemn silence stretched between them; the dripping of water too faint to properly fill it.

'That night, at Clover bank—'

'When you used me as a spring board? Yeah, I _kinda_ remember that.' Alfred cut off, able to physically taste the salt on his tongue at the memory. Britannia ignored the comment.

'The Syndicate had me. I was stupid, got shot by their sniper. If not for my mother's blood jar, I wouldn't of escaped and you wouldn't be in this cell.' He confessed, heavy with shame.

Alfred's gut squirmed at the finality direction of the confession, and he drew in deep breath when he knew what he had to do.

If—if this was _it_ , then he couldn't go without telling Britannia the truth; no matter how painful it was. He couldn't die with the knowledge that the one he loved hated him.

'I've never lied to you Britannia. Alfred didn't have those files because I told him to put them together. I got those files from the DIA, in prep for tonight's mission. How they got into Alfred's bag was an total accident.'

Britannia went perfectly still. 'That doesn't explain why the Syndicate tried to kill him.' He muttered.

Alfred got another deep breath, readying himself for the worst. 'The Winter Syndicate went after Alfred because their leader, General Winter, saw him with Arthur.'

'What?' Britannia breathed, soft enough to be missed. ' _Who?_ '

'Doctor Ivan Braginsky. He saw them together at the Mia Everson exhibit. He put that hit on Alfred to get to Arthur, to get to you—'

Alfred stopped when he felt Britannia curl in on himself, violent trembles shaking his thin frame as he bowed his head. 'It's my fault. _It's all my fault._ Alfred almost died, because of _me_ ,' He sobbed, voice cracking. 'Wang was right. I am a monster.'

'Britannia! Britannia, no! You—,' Alfred choked on his own tongue, but what could he say? 'you're…not a monster. It's not your fault. You did nothing wrong, you're a victim in this, innocent!'

'Methought I heard a voice cry "Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep". The innocent sleep, sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care. Macbeth shall sleep no more",' Britannia recited lowly with monotone warmth before Alfred felt his gloved hands brush against his own, tracing their clenched shape.

'I can't sleep Columbia. Not like everyone else can. The night terrors won't let me. I don't have good dreams, and I'll never know the peace of them...I can't—I can't _rest,_ Columbia, and I am so, _so,_ tired.'

'Britannia,' Alfred uttered, uncurling his hands to hold Britannia's, comfort him, but Britannia had slumped against him, his shallowed breaths evening out as he sank back under into unconsciousness. 'Britannia?'

'Who knew an angel could have such demons.' A scratchy voice remarked from the inside of the next cell, and Alfred snapped his head up to see the dirty face of a young woman pressed between the iron bars.

'Who are you?' Alfred asked, glancing behind her to see more faces in the cell with her; many of them thin and pale, faces that were too young, had seen too little of the world to fully understand the dire gravity of their situation. Alfred's teeth gritted against each other. Wang had stolen children from their homes, and he had branded them as _livestock_.

'What does it matter? We're all going to be sold off and given new names anyway.' The girl resigned with a shake of her head, and one of the younger faces whimpered.

'Wang won't get away with this.' Alfred promised, and the girl gave a huffed laugh.

'Don't kid yourself, we heard that you have no backstop. And even if you did, what's the point? It doesn't make a difference if you break us out of a cell, because it's not the bars that's got us. The yakuza has something on all of us, whether it be parent's debt, blackmail, or even addiction to the new drugs that we're being shipped off with.'

Alfred winced, remembering Edelstein's horrific lab results on the 'X' experiments. Wang had got these kids hooked on it? There was no end to his derangement. 'Shipped off with? Where?' Alfred prompted with a furrowed brow.

'Wang's chain of private nightclubs, Cardverse. Each district in Terra has one with the corresponding deck symbol. Wang's going to launch his new drug line with a big event in four days, that's when we get shipped out to. I'm going to Spades.' She finished with a sigh, and Alfred slowly nodded as he progressed the info, filing it away for later use.

'Thank you for that, and I swear to you, all of you. On my honour as a hero, the DIA, the good guys will come and help you free yourselves from the yakuza.' He promised, and after a moment's pause, the girl nodded back.

'I'll hold you to that then, hero.'

Alfred took the time to memorise her face; the thin bridge of her nose and the discoloured bruise under her right eye. 'So, now that you know that you're getting out of here, I never did get your name.' He said with a offered smile and saw the girl chew on her bottom lip before returning the friendly gesture.

'Ellie. My name is Ellie Brooks.'

* * *

'Brit—….'

'B….'

…

'Britannia!'

Britannia startled awake and tried to blink the heavy sleep from his eyes, when he realised the oddity of the action. Heavy…sleep? He didn't—He had slept. He had slept, without dreaming. Without any Hatter interference...How had that even been possible?

At his back, Columbia jostled him, rousing him enough to understand his urgency; a group of footsteps were traversing down the corridor towards their cell block.

'How's the concussion? Will you good to run?,' Columbia hissed as he tested the cuffs.

Britannia gave a single nod and found that the pounding in his skull had ceased. He would never ungrateful of his healing magic. 'I'll be fine. What about the cuffs? Can you break them?'

'You know it. Uh—Small prob though. Even when we jump these guys, comms are jammed. We'll have no idea where we're going.'

Britannia raised his head and scanned the stone walls that surrounded them. 'The trap door corridor that I used to get into the warehouse was the same type of stone as this. It's damper in here though, so we must be deeper underground that it.' He deduced.

'Maybe there'll be signs with directions to the stairs up.' Columbia optimistically quipped, despite both of them knowing with near certainty that there would, in fact, not be any signs to the stairs that would helpfully guide them to the exit.

'I wouldn't hold my breath on that,' Britannia deadpanned back and rolled his shoulders to loosen up the knots in his upper back. 'Can you not remember anything distinct when they brought us down here?'

'Oh! Actually, yeah! There was fire extinguisher at the end of the same corridor the stairs down were connected to. And there was water fountain after that.'

'What about the stairs themselves? Did you count how many flights we are underground?'

'Three, but once we hit the stairs, it's a straight road up to the surface,' Columbia filled in and Britannia tensed alongside him when the footsteps paused outside the cellblock door, a key jingling in the lock. 'Okay, when they open the door, I'mma break the cuffs and charge them. Sound good?'

'Never better.' Britannia muttered before the door was thrown wide and five yakuza stalked into the corridor, smug smirks on all their faces as they approached. The iron bar door screeched as it swung open, and the moment they crossed over the threshold, Columbia sprang. Off came the cuffs, and down went the men as the all American hero barrelled into them, Britannia right on his heels.

'We'll be back for you!' Columbia yelled over his shoulder and the yakuza men's shouts as they ran out the door and down the L corridor, a sharp turn at the junction opened up to four more doorways; each one indistinguishable from the other.

'Columbia, which way,' Britannia demanded before a piercing siren deafened the air. The guards had sounded the alarm. 'Columbia!'

'Uh-um, maybe— uh, second left?' Columbia blurted, his eyes frantically jumping between their exits.

' _Columbia._ '

'Second left!' He decided and grabbed Britannia's hand to pull him after him and start running again. The stone walls gave way to plaster, and Britannia squinted ahead to see a red fire extinguisher at the end of hallway.

'There!' He cried out and he and Columbia launched themselves up the staircase at the end of the connecting corridor, taking the steps two at a time whilst the entire building seemingly throbbed on alert.

When they broke the surface, it was though someone had amped the alarm's volume to it's maximum; Britannia's heart pounding against his ribcage with the same earthquaking power as it would have at a rock concert. The entrance hall was as grand as the throne room, and completely cleared out. No, all the activity was coming from the floors above them as hundreds of Wang's goons swarmed the main staircase.

'The gondola. This way.' Columbia tugged their linked hands and they ran for the colossal entrance doors fixed open wide. The night's air was refreshingly crisp in contrast to the dampness of the cells and tobacco perfume of the throne room, and it helped sharpen Britannia's focus as they belted it for the gondola's rail station; the explosion of gunshots and whistle of near miss bullets told him that Wang's yakuza were right behind them.

'What are you doing?' Britannia hissed when he felt his hand slip from Columbia's, the American having skidded to a stop and was looking back to the station's control shed, leaving Britannia alone in the gondola carriage that was already starting to pull away.

'Making sure they can't stop us!' Columbia called out as he ripped the shed's door off it's hinges and punched his fist through the control console. The console burst with a shower of sparks and Columbia sucked in a quick succession of shallow breaths in prep for a running jump before launching himself at the carriage; Britannia surging forward through of the gondola's glassless window to catch his outstretched hand.

Columbia's body slammed against the metal side just as a bullet ricocheted off it. Britannia exhaled a drawn out groan as he kicked up a foot and used it as leverage to heave Columbia over the ledge; a task by no means easy given his impressive build and the nausea-inducing way the carriage swayed; reminding Britannia of the equally nauseous height they were suspended at, almost several times that of the height they had fallen from on the cruise ship nights ago. The cruise ship had produced waves that had disturbed the seawater and kept their bones from shattering upon impact. Here, there was no cruise ship.

With the controls destroyed, Wang would have no way to stop the gondola from arriving at the other side. They'd made it. 'Way to think ahead.' Britannia complimented between pants with an indivisible smile on his lips, undeniably impressed by the American's rare display of intelligence; the brilliant woman who had said that brains were the new sexy, had been right.

'I'm not _all_ hunky muscle and great hair, you know.' Columbia grinned back, and Britannia wrinkled his nose.

'Afraid I'm going to have to disagree with that last part.'

Columbia's hand jumped to his blond mess, and his face fell for a faction of a second, before it was back brighter than ever with boyish cheek and charm,'But you agree? I do have hunky muscles.'

The gunshots had long stopped (out of range most likely by Britannia's logic) when Britannia rolled his eyes and gave the American a playful shove, to have his good mood evaporate at the sight over his shoulder.

'Hey, B? I know this isn't the greatest of time, but I- I just want you to know—'

'Columbia—' Britannia tried, but Columbia was determined to say his piece.

'I want you to know that whatever was said back there, about your past, I—I'm here for you. Not gonna lie, it scares me. Good _god_ , it scares the freaking crap out of me. But I love you, and I want you to know nothing has changed that, or can change ever that.'

'Columbia, look!' Britannia shouted and grabbed Columbia's chin to make him look back to the Jasmine Dragon.

A huge crowd had grown at the front of the Chinese pagoda, and it was at the forefront where Wang and the man in jade stood. There was a suspended second in which the four men just stared at each other, before it was broken with Wang leaning to whisper in the jade man's ear. The man nodded and then, unbelievably, as if pulled straight from an action scene, ran and leapt up onto the steel core wire of the gondola's pulley system to begin nimbly running along it with the grace and agility of a master acrobat.

'You gotta be effing kidding me.' Columbia groaned behind him.

'Of course it couldn't of been that easy,' Britannia spat and manoeuvred to hoist himself up and out onto the carriage roof. 'Stay low.' He called down to Columbia as he sank into a stance.

'Nu-uh! You are not having a rooftop fight without me.' Columbia insisted as he climbed up beside him, the metal groaning with the new weight distribution.

'Best not fall then, love. I might not be able to save you from the ocean a second time.' Britannia smirked at him with a quick look before fixing his sight back on the jade man as he drew closer.

The asian man gave a high war cry as he closed the distance with a flying kick. Britannia gritted his teeth and sidestepped to avoid the strike. The man landed delicately on the balls of his feet, and Britannia swung for his temple, only to have his fist caught by the jade man's gauntleted one.

A scream was ripped from his throat when a blisteringly electric current jolted up through his arm to cause it to uncontrollably spasm. With immense effort, Britannia curled his other fist and slugged the jade man's face. The man tumbled, severing their painful connection, and was forced to step back when Columbia charged his flank.

Quick and short breaths to try to control the pain, Britannia clutched his twitching arm and lurched right when the carriage rocked beneath his feet. Flailing for balance, Britannia's cooperating hand reached into his belt to take out his set of handcuffs, and he poised; ready to slap them on the jade man at his first opening as he wrestled with Columbia.

The carriage, however, had other plans and violently shuddered to make Britannia's boot slip. The Brit fell to his knee with a cry and his torso smacked against the carriage roof as he scrambled to desperately cling on; forearms straining with effort to pull himself back up.

Columbia's head snapped to him, and his uncertain hesitance was opportune enough for the jade man to swivel out of his now flax headlock, rear up behind him and jam his electrified gauntlet against the nape of the American's neck. Columbia's scream was raw as the jade man slowly forced him down to his knees like David and Goliath, perfect teeth chattering as his every muscle seized up to immobilise him.

With an exasperated roar, Britannia heaved himself up, feet stumbling for ground as he hurtled toward the two, and with one fluid motion, slapped one cuff around the jade man's gauntleted wrist, reached high, and clipped the other around the gondola's pulley wire that carried them.

'W-Wait!' Was all the jade man got out before Britannia gathered up all his strength and spartan-kicked him off the carriage, sending him screeching back down to the Jasmine Dragon, dangling erratically by his thin -and most probably broken- wrist .

Britannia squatted over, hands on knees with his head hung as he caught up on his breath. He glanced right, and sighed with relief when he saw that they had made it to the other station; the Heart's red light district never looking more inviting at the top of the gravel hill.

His gaze dropped to Columbia, who was still resting flat on his back. The American had really come through for him in clutch again. Britannia would have to properly thank him when they got back to the apartment, and then have a much needed talk about, well, everything.

'Columbia. Come on, we made it. Let's go,' Britannia huffed as he straightened back up, and had his stomach knot itself thrice over when he saw the unnatural stillness of the hero.

'Columbia?'

Nothing.

Britannia's legs were boneless when he took a step closer, and felt his stomach plummet when he wasn't able to see the rise and fall of a chest.

'Columbia!' Britannia shrieked and lunged, skidding to his knees and shoved his ear against Columbia's agape mouth.

No breath.

Britannia's focus instantaneously shifted to his neck, thrusting his fingers against it and felt.

No pulse.

Dead.

'No! No, no no no!' Britannia pleaded and interlocked his palms to initiate CPR, Bleeding as he did. With each compression, he enforced it with a pulse of his healing magic to restart the American's heart. But every time he thought the magic would take, it's golden light faded, and Columbia's heavy body remained lifeless.

'Why?' The Brit stared in horror at his glowing hand. Why wasn't his magic healing him? What was wrong with him?

'You killed him,' an evil little voice jeered in his head. 'He's dead because of you. He died because he loved you. This is what happens when people try to get close to you. You kill them. You can't be like them. You aren't one of them _._ Your hands can only destroy.

This is all your fault. _'_

' _No_ ,' Arthur growled and resumed his compressions, shoving against Columbia's ribcage with renewed determination. 'No. You are not going to die, you idiot! I know you, I know that you're too bloody stubborn to die! We're partners, you and I, we're a team. Y-you're my friend, and I will not give up on you!'

He ripped off the Britannia mask, tipped back Columbia's head and pinched his nose. With a deep inhale, Arthur pressed their lips together and blew hard. Columbia's chest rose as his lungs inflated with air, and Arthur jerked back when it spastically convulsed. The American hero exploded with a hagged splutter as he choked on nothing, his body jackknifing as life rushed back into him; heart hammering a mile a minute, pinprick blue pupils darting about hysterically before they latched onto Arthur's green ones.

'An…gel?' Columbia's glassy stare sharpened for a faction of second before the ghost of a smile touched his lips. 'Ar—thur…' He breathed happily, and his lids slid shut as his eyes rolled up to the back of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to both laugh and cry, simultaneously. Honestly, I'm the one who bloody wrote it and I feel like I'm being put through the ringer every time I reread it whilst editing.
> 
> Characterisation. Where do I even start? There were so many little moments in here that threatened to choke me up.
> 
> Alfred: Boy deserves a freaking medal. The real MVP of the chapter. Seriously. Alfred learns of the truth of all the trauma that has been inflicted upon Arthur, who doesn't even recognise it as trauma, and instead of recoiling after learning that Britannia is not the man he thought he was, says 'Fuck that. No. This is not right. You are a victim in this, and you deserve better. I love you and I will be there for you.'
> 
> Alfred's compassion shines in this chapter, and I love him for it (As does Arthur).
> 
> We finally learn about what the deal is between Britannia and the Winter Syndicate, previously alluded to back in chapter 7 with a throwaway line where Britannia remembers 'past hauntings of it's (the shock collar) cruel weight around his own neck.' and in Arthur's dream flashback where Maria mentions that Ivan takes a keen interest in Arthur's 'education'.
> 
> And Arthur's/Britannia's development toward Columbia. At the start of this fic, Britannia saw Columbia as a nuisance, writing him off as a big mouth-big head wanna be hero. In this chapter, Arthur was terrified at the prospect of losing him, going so far as to expose his identity to save him. Speaking of which...
> 
> The Love Square is finally broken! Alfred knows! Ready to cut your lifeline and fling yourself into the suffering pit once more!
> 
> Questions remain though; who was it that brought Britannia at the auction? What is the animosity between Arthur and his father? How is Alfred going to react now that he knows Arthur is Britannia? All to be revealed soon.
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter and I hope you 'enjoyed' it :) If you are liking this story so far, please take the time to leave a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,
> 
> Until next time folks!


	18. Something Just Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred wakes up from the morning after his and Britannia's narrow escape from the Jasmine Dragon. Now knowing the true identity of his idol, Britannia to be Arthur Kirkland, the two have an important conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18! Apologises for the long wait as always, quality always priorities over quantity for me.
> 
> If you haven't already, be sure to check out my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lollipoplou where you can check out fan art has inspired the story, character playlists that I put together, and other fandom stuff :)
> 
> If anyone is interested in writing themselves, and seeing how well people seem to like them, I'll be posting a deconstruction meta of how I write action and fight scenes on my tumblr. Hopefully it can be of some help to whose who might find writing such scenes daunting. If it's well received, I might post similar writing advice posts in the future :)
> 
> And whose ready for some angst and fluff and romance? Hoo boy, time to get on the emotional rollercoaster again.
> 
> Buckle up boys.

Spades District, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirkland Residence.

* * *

 

A low moan stirred from Alfred Jones when he returned to the land of the living, stretching out his sleep drowsy limbs to feel soft bedsheets beneath him.

Mmhmm~

…

Wait. Bedsheets?

A dark shape moved behind his lids, and Alfred's eyes snapped open to reflexively grab the wrist of the hand that had been extending for his forehead; his grip vicelike to stop it in it's tracks. Arthur Kirkland stared back at him, dressed in a plain t-shirt and long shorts, his stunning green eyes wide against the backdrop of his bedroom flooded in sunlight.

Alfred blinked in confusion at the slight tint to his vision, before realising that he was still wearing his goggles.

'You're awake.' Arthur breathed relived and Alfred slowly, robotically uncurled his fingers, unable to tear his gaze away from the Brit's face; the dark bags that he had under his eyes the last time Alfred had seen him at college, missing to make him seemingly glow with health.

And then, like a tsunami, the memories of last night slammed into him, each wave with increasing vividness and clarity than the last; escaping the Jasmine Dragon, the jade man electrocuting him on top of the gondola. Arthur's face staring back down at him in Britannia's suit.

Arthur in Britannia's suit;  _his_ suit.

Arthur was Britannia.

Britannia-Arthur, defending him during the school attack. Britannia-Arthur, laying screaming on Allistor's operating table with his back tore to bloody ribbons.

Britannia-Arthur taking his face between his hands to kiss him.

Blood flooded Alfred's cheeks with the phantom sensation of Arthur's lips moulding against his. That had been his and Britannia's first kiss —one that Britannia, Arthur had  _initiated_ — and he hadn't even known it, been able to appreciate it's astronomical importance.

'You—The kiss.' He uttered, and when Arthur's cheeks turned a rose pink, Alfred silently swore he'd never seen a lovelier sight.

'I— It was CPR Columbia. You would of died otherwise.'

Alfred shifted so that he sat against Arthur's headboard and suppressed the urge to shake his head at the cruel misunderstanding.

No. No, no no. Not that kiss,  _the_ kiss, their first kiss. The one that Alfred himself had broken off because he hadn't wanted to fall in love with —what he had at least  _thought_  had been— two different people.

Alfred's restraint had never been more tested than in that moment as he sat there in front of the man he loved, and couldn't express any of the anguish that tore him from the inside out as the same thought circled around and around in his head.

His shaking fists curled the bedsheets below him into tight knots.

Arthur was Britannia, and Arthur loved him.

He loved Arthur.

And Arthur didn't know.

'Listen, I know that you likely have a lot of questions. But before that, I have to make something imperatively clear,' Arthur said with his face set and took Alfred's hand into his.

'I—understand that you have…deep affections, for me, Columbia. And, whilst I am incredibly flattered by such attention, I have to tell you that I can't recuperate such feeling. You have become dear to me, Columbia. So when I thought that you had endangered Alfred, I felt so betrayed—' Arthur's voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath to compose himself before continuing.

'I am in love with him, you see.  _I love him_. His stupidly upbeat attitude, his unwavering kindness, and his  _smile_ ,' Arthur sighed the last word as though it were a breath of fresh air, and his eyes drifted to the city skyline, 'it shines so brightly that I'm so completely blinded by it….He's my sun, Columbia. He's good and honest, and— and sometimes, when I'm with him, I can imagine what it would be like to be normal. Simply, and cleanly, normal.'

Alfred hadn't realised that he had been holding his breath until his lungs started to scream, and his heavy exhale drew Arthur's stare to latch back onto his.

'He can never be involved with us Columbia. You have to swear to me, swear to me that Alfred will never know about any of this. He can never know who I truly am, he can never be put in danger like that again. Not again. Please, Columbia.'

Alfred stared at Arthur, a feral glint of desperation in his eye.

'Take off your mask, reveal yourself. This is ridiculous, you love each other. Take off the mask and you two can be together!' a coy voice chimed, and Alfred's green eyed monster purred.  _Yes_.

'Except, you can't,' Another, more rational voice sadly reasoned, 'Arthur loves you as Alfred because you are the only normal thing in his fucked up life. He treasures that, more than anything. You can't ruin that, not without breaking his heart.'

Alfred mentally shuddered when he recalled how Arthur had wept when he told him the truth about why the kid assassin had come after him. His horrible past, his morphed perception of himself, Arthur was already suffering so much; a wire too taunt, ready to snap.

Alfred couldn't snap him. He couldn't hurt him like that.

'Okay. I promise.' He somehow forced out and saw relief crash down on Arthur; releasing all the balled up tension in his body as he shifted back to his original position, having subconsciously closed the distance between them in his anxiety.

'Thank you, Columbia. You have no idea how much that means to me,' The Brit smiled before he cleared his throat and recomposed himself. 'I suppose that now you know the truth, I should tell you the story from the beginning. If you want to know, that is.'

'Of course I do.' Alfred automatically replied, his gut fluttering despite the knots it had twisted itself into. This was it, Arthur was going to tell him the whole story.

Arthur huffed a laugh at his puppy-like eagerness, and settled to tell his tale. 'I was born on the twenty-third of April in a private hospital on the Duke of Canterbury's Estate back in England, where all the staff were sworn to secrecy, to Victoria Elizabeth Mary of House Belacqua.'

Alfred's jaw dropped. 'House? As in  _noble_ house?'

'My great, great grandmother is a member of one of the more obscure branches of the royal family. And before you ask— no, Columbia, I do not have a claim to the throne. There's actually a good reason why you won't find the Belacqua name on many records.'

'Why?' Alfred asked, still wrestling with the fact that Arthur descended from nobility. Holy shit, the blonde clones had been right when they had fantasised that he was a relative of the Queen of England.

Arthur leant over to his bedside table and pulled out a black photo album to hand it over to Alfred. Shooting him an inquisitive look, Alfred flipped open the cover to be greeted with a picture of five year old Arthur being held in a woman's arms, who could of only been his mother, beneath a great lavender tree; both of them possessing the same heavenly beauty that belonged in old master's renaissance paintings; perfectly shaped cupid-bow lips, dark blond lashes, creamy skin with the faintest english rose blush.

Arthur had adopted every lovely feature from his mother, the only differences being the dark thick brows above his eyes that shared his mother's shape, but not their honied ember colour.

'Espionage,' Arthur's voice brought him back to present, and Alfred shook himself out of his daze, 'The Belacqua house has specialised in convert operations and espionage since the start of world war two. When the royal family needed something they couldn't trust to the secret service, they would come to us.'

'And, you're all spies?' Alfred muttered as he flipped to the next page to see ten year old Arthur against the back drop of an English estate manor on it's sprawling lawn, tensed with a fully drawn back bow and nocked arrow; his young face steeled with hawk like focus on the target just out of frame.

'Family business, love. It's in my blood.' Arthur said with a small smile that Alfred raised an eyebrow at whilst flicking through the next couple of pages. He stopped on a landscape shot of sixteen year old Arthur in military kevlar, an assault rifle slung over his shoulder as he posed grinning along with six other boys. The ground they stood on was red and dusty, like that of an exotic dessert and a great metal tank sat behind them.

Alfred didn't miss the way Arthur's eyes shone as he looked down at the faces.

'Mother took that whilst I was training with the SAS in Afghan. We were the Knight squadron. Merlin,' Arthur pointed to the dark haired, gangly boy with the sharpest cheekbones Alfred had ever seen.

'Lancelot, Percival, Gwaine, Leon, and Elyan,' He continued, naming each corresponding face.

'All codenames until they weren't.'

Alfred stiffened at that. 'So your real name—'

Arthur shook his head. 'No. Trust me when I tell you that Arthur Kirkland is my real name.'

'Kirkland. Your dad's name.' Alfred prompted testily, remembering how Arthur had last reacted to the topic, and sure enough saw the earlier light in Arthur's eye snap off; the shutters behind them slamming shut.

'My father,' Arthur spat the title as though it were corrosive acid on his tongue, 'is a man I pray you never have the misfortune to meet.'

'Wang called him the King of Singapore.' Alfred recalled and Arthur scowled that oh-so-familiar scowl of his. The longer Alfred stared at it, the more he questioned how he could of ever thought that anyone other than Arthur could of been behind Britannia's mask.

'To quote the devil "An understatement". My father is the apex predator of the Underworld. He inherited his father's business empire at eighteen, and met my mother ten years later.'

Alfred turned back to the first photograph of Victoria and little Arthur, and lightly traced his index down her long glossy sheets that had blessed Arthur with his beautiful golden colour. He didn't see a ring on either of her slender hands.

'They never married?' He asked.

'They were set to. Mother was pregnant with me, second trimester, when my father asked her to retire— and well, that didn't exactly go down well. Mother loved her work, see, and having me gave her the perfect cover. No one expected you to take a life when you were carrying one.'

'Jesus.' Alfred breathed and was reminded that there was a dark ice beneath the woman's stellar beauty. Arthur had told him himself that t Victoria had raised him to be an apprentice to her in her work. Her very dangerous, life threatening work...Seriously, what kind of parent did that to their kid?

'So, naturally, Father was  _not_ happy that Mother had no intention of settling. He tried everything to change her mind. Scared that her work would cost them me, he tried to have her incarcerated.'

Alfred's lips made a silent 'O', and Arthur huffed a laugh.

'Yeah. But Mother being Mother, she was already out of the country, arrangements already made for her family to take her to England. She stayed in hiding with my grandmother until I was born.'

Alfred sniffed and scratched his nose. 'On the Duke's Estate,' He finished before his brows drew together, 'you haven't explained how Dylan, Seamus and Allistor come in.'

'My father had had Dylan two years before he met my mother. It was later on when I was twelve that I actually met them and Mother brought them along with us and began training them alongside me.'

'Why leave though? I mean, Victoria isn't their mom.'

'Because it was better than staying with a father that acted as though they didn't exist, being too caught up on the one that got away.' Arthur grimly answered and Alfred pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the dull ache of an oncoming headache.

_Oi._

'Okay. Okay, I think I got most of it. I just have one more question. If you're in hiding from your dad, then why the heck are you using his name? Shouldn't that, like, be a massive flare?'

'It's…complicated,' Arthur rolled the word with his jaw, 'it's like Wang said. By going by 'Kirkland', everyone knows who we are, making it the worst and best protection. Everyone, including my father, knows we are in Terra, however by common knowledge, that means slime like Wang know that my fathers knows. Thus, preventing someone intending to approach for fear of drawing my father's unwanted attention.'

'So basically, the bad guys know, that you know, they know? But— last, last question I swear— how come your dad's just, like, okay with that? Hasn't he been searching for you to take you back?' Alfred puzzled and Arthur crossed his arms.

'Father is intelligent enough to know that it is better to know exactly where we are than to waste resources keeping up with us on the run,' Arthur reasoned and took back his photo album, sparing a second to stare longingly at his mother's face before he shut it and replaced it back in his bedside table draw. He glanced up to the alarm clock on top and gasped.

'Gosh look at the time, Matthew will not be happy that I kept you for so long.'

Guilt bolted through Alfred like touching a live wire and his feet scrambled to for the floor to launch himself off the bed. 'Crap! Matt!' He hissed when he tumbled in confusion when his feet touched a futon laid out alongside the bed.

'Uh?' He looked at Arthur and didn't understand why his cheeks were flushed as he twiddled his thumbs sheepishly.

'Well— yes, rather— I…it's appears that when I sleep near you, my nightmares can't reach me,' The Brit coughed, his face a deep crimson and Alfred's confusion melted with his heart. 'I'm sorry, I just—I rarely sleep well, and—'

'Hey, it's alright. I don't mind.' Alfred reassured and felt his heart quiver like hummingbird when Arthur gave a grateful small nod of thanks.

Hey, if Alfred could do anything to give Arthur a goodnights sleep, then he'd do it without a doubt.

'Matthew.' Arthur reminded and Alfred nodded before he made for a bedroom door and held it open for Arthur.

'My lady.' Alfred smirked, and laughed when Arthur rolled his eyes at the inside joke from their night breaking into N.O.V.A.

'Wanker.'

* * *

'You stupid, dumb ass, bag of dicks!' Matthew shrieked as he threw himself at Alfred the second he touched the bottom of the stairs, near staggering the American with his momentum. Alfred let out a soft sigh as he brought his arms up to return the crushing embrace.

'Love you to bro-bro.' He muttered into his twin's tousled locks, and felt Matthew sniff against him before he pulled away to wipe his eyes.

'We could hear everything, but whatever Wang got installed in the Jasmine Dragon's security stopped our audio from coming through on your end,' Seamus piped up from the dining table and nodded over to Dylan on the party sofa, his chestnut head hunched over his laptop as he tapped furiously at the keyboard. 'Dylan's been up all morning trying to figure out what it was and make a mod to override it. Nice to see you up again laddie. Glad to have you properly on board now.'

'Thanks man,' Alfred returned with a nod and glanced at Arthur when he passed him to make for the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. The action, coming from the guy he'd idolised for so long, feeling weirdly displaced, so  _domestic._ 'My mind's still kinda imploding with it all.'

'Columbia. How are you feeling?' Allistor asked as he stepped out of his med room and joined Arthur over by the sink.

Alfred shrugged. 'Yeah, y'know, alright. Like I said, it's overwhelming.'

'He meant about how your heart stopped beating not even twelve hours ago, Columbia.' Arthur deadpanned with an eye roll and Alfred turned a beetroot red.

'Y-yeah, pfft— Obviously. Um, yeah, I'm good. No weird aches.'

'All the same, later, I'd like to go through an examination with you.' The Scot affirmed and the parental edge of his voice told Alfred that there was no getting out of it.

'I called Germania and filled him in on what happened, but apparently the Jasmine Dragon's already been cleared out. The drugs are gone, the kids Wang was keeping prisoner are gone. The offices were ransacked, and whatever records that could of told us where the missing scientists are being held are gone to.' Matthew grimly informed and Alfred gritted his teeth as he thought back on Ellie and the others. He'd get them home, he'd promised.

'We do, however, do what Wang's next move is,' Arthur nudged as he leant up against the marble kitchen counter. 'Cardverse. He's going to launch 'X' onto the market through his clubs across the districts.'

'So, what's the plan then?' Alfred asked, looking between the brothers.

'We don't have one yet. We were worried about the—you know— you almost dying thing.' Dylan sighed heavily as he shut his laptop, dark bags beneath his eyes.

'Welp! No time like the present.' Alfred quipped, injecting as much optimism into the sentence as he could to (hopefully) gloss over that particular morbid fact, when Arthur loudly cleared his throat.

'Actually, before we get to that, I have an announcement to make, and I am afraid it's not a happy one.' The Brit said heavily with a squared jaw, his fists gripping the counters ledge tight.

'What's wrong lad?' Allistor asked, and Alfred saw Arthur steel himself.

'Hatter's back.'

There was a collective sharp inhale from other Kirklands; all the colour simultaneously drained from their faces.

'No.'

'That can't be—'

'Are you sure Arthur? Are you absolutely sure?' Allistor demanded, and Arthur gave a single nod with a pinched expression.

'He never left. He said he's just been hiding, watching us.'

Alfred's gaze darted between the mirror expressions of horror. 'Yo, is anyone gonna explain who the hell this 'Hatter' is and why everyone's losing their shit over him?'

But the brothers aren't interested in anything Alfred had to say.

'Why didn't you bloody tell us?' Seamus shouted, on his feet looking like he were about to vault over the sofa and start straggling Arthur.

Arthur shook his head. 'Look, I warded the house as soon as I found out. I'm the only one whose Lucid in the house, I'm the only one whose dreams he can appear in. His attention is all on me, I thought if I could just—'

'What? Keep us out of it to  _protect us_? Fuck you.' Dylan swore and Allistor gripped Arthur by the forearm, his grip vicelike.

'How long were you known?' The Scot growled, looming over the younger man.

'After the attack on the University, whilst I was out with my back.' Arthur confessed and his brothers groaned as one.

'How did you find out? I mean, I thought we were all warded.' Dylan demanded.

'He appeared to me in a dream, and he's been haunting them ever since, except when…' Arthur trailed off, and Alfred frowned when he saw Arthur glance at him.

He decided that he was beyond done with being left in the dark.

'Seriously. Who the hell are you talking about?! C'mon, throw me a line here! Is it some Lucid thing?' He yelled and there was a moment of silence before Seamus scoffed.

'Way to put it together Captain Obvious.'

Alfred deliberately stared Arthur down until he sighed in surrender. 'It's rather difficult, but if I  _had_  to define Hatter, I would say that he is the personification, or rather, the collective consciousness of the fourth dimension.'

'He's a dream demon. Right up there with Bob from Twin Peaks and the little dorito freak from it's cartoon equivalent. Dylan alternatively offered.

'A complete psychopath that's obsessed with Artie.' Allistor spat, and Alfred's blood ran cold in his veins.

What?

'What?' He repeated aloud, and Arthur cringed.

'I…may of somehow—created, Hatter when I was a child. I was young, I didn't know how to properly control my powers, and to this day I still don't understand how exactly it happened. I don't know if my magic has always been as strong as it is, or if it's because of my connection of Hatter bolstering it. Because he essentially  _is_ the fourth dimension, Hatter cannot exist in our world, unless…'

'Unless what?' Matthew tentatively prompted, and Arthur's next words rippled goosebumps down Alfred's spine.

'He possesses someone Lucid,' Arthur answered darkly and fixed them both with a laser-focused look. 'Hatter is beyond anything you could possibly imagine. He's psychotic, cunning, completely deranged with no concept whatsoever of humanity or mercy.'

Alfred stood there, his entire body numb, void. 'And he's after you?,' He asked, though his voice came out so low that he might as well whispered it. Arthur solemnly nodded, and Alfred puffed up his chest, fists clenched. 'I won't let him touch you.'

'My hero,' Arthur replied with a sad smile, making Alfred's heart throb, before he coughed and clapped his hands together. 'there is actually a theory that I'd like to test with you later relating to Hatter, but first, I think we have to decide what we are going to do about Wang.'

'Hold on lad, we can't just—' Allistor protested only to be cut off.

'We can, and we are, Allistor. At this very moment, there is  _nothing_  we can do about Hatter. He cannot get to us in this house, and he can only appear to me when I am asleep…maybe not even then when Columbia is in close proxy to me,' Arthur retorted, his snappish tone fading on the last part to make Alfred really curious.

'We have to concentrate on what we can do with the time we have  _now_. And, what we can do right now, is come up with a plan to stop Wang.'

About ten seconds of silence followed after before Dylan broke it with a huff. 'I hate it when you're right.'

The tension uneasily, but surely dissolved as Allistor crossed his arms and rubbed his temples. 'Aye to that. Right, then, you sorry sods. How the hell are we going to stop Wang from launching 'X' across four very spread districts,  _and_ find out where he's keeping the kidnapped scientists.'

'Don't forget that the fucker is onto us now with the Jasmine Dragon being cleared out,' Seamus highlighted. 'you two barely got in when they weren't prepared for you.'

An indivisible lightbulb went off above Alfred's head. 'We need more manpower.'

'What are you proposing?' Arthur questioned with his regular scowl and Alfred crossed the floor to take Arthur by his hands.

'We call in the other vigilantes of Terra! Form Voltron, and together kick Wang's ass!' He grinned unable to suppress the excitement at the idea. It'd be something right out of the movies! He and Britannia, rallying the other vigilantes against an evil threat!

'W-what?' The Brit squeaked.

'Teamwork makes the dreamwork! If all of us worked together, I know we could pull it!' Alfred pushed and Arthur shook his head in disbelief.

'You've lost the plot. Say we even did put out a call, what's to say they'd even answer us?'

Alfred gripped Arthur's hands tighter, the same sparkling shine in his eye that children who wished upon stars and believed in Father Christmas possessed; the shine of someone who believed in something with all their heart. 'They will. They will if the Britannia Angel is the one calling.'

'The Britannia Angel wouldn't of gotten very far without Columbia,' Arthur said with no teasing tint and returned Alfred's strong grip. 'and if we're going to do this, it's together, or not at all.'

Alfred faltered, suddenly quite vulnerable. 'But, B…I'm not exactly the most qualified to lead. I—I mean, Oz even said it himself, I haven't been doing this for very long. I'm inexperienced. I'm don't deserve the right to co-lead with you, and that's what they'll all be thinking as well.'

Arthur removed his hands from Alfred to take his face between them, tilting his chin ever-so-slightly down so that their eyes met.

'Now you listen to me, you wonderful, selfless prick. I will not have you in  _any_  other place lower than the one you deserve. Blow what the rest think, I cannot think of a more incredible individual that I would rather have at my side as my partner, and my equal.'

Alfred hadn't registered the tears that had built in the corners of his eyes until one broke free to streak down his cheek, the skin beneath the wet trail boiling as his throat closed up; his heart quivering as it tried to keep up with feeling of euphoria that inflated inside him.

This— This was—

It was all he had ever wanted.

It was real, and it was in front of him,

and  ** _it was real._**

'Thank you.' He croaked as the second tear fell.

Arthur, whose smile outshone the sun, who he had fallen so completely, so wholly for, smiled for him and stretched his thumb to catch the fallen tear.

'Together, or not at all.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sniffs*
> 
> I'm not crying.
> 
> I'm not crying that Alfred has come within touching distance of loving Britannia/Arthur as he longs to but can't, despite how easy it could be.
> 
> I'm not crying because the dream that Alfred's been chasing for forever has come true, a dream that he's bled, and been beaten and died for.
> 
> And I'm definitely not crying because these two idiots love each other so so much, and still can't be together.
> 
> Alfred. This chapter is the reason in my mind that he is the main protagonist, the true hero of this tale.
> 
> High flying emotions and chitchat central in this chapter. A lot of big information bomb dropped and a lot of set up for future chapters! So, so, so hyped to assemble the avengers- I mean vigilantes >.> It's gonna be epic, returning characters, some new ones that I've hinted at. I can't wait for you all to read it :D
> 
> Next chapter, oh ho ho HO. Won't say much else, but expect; the fluffy goodness of a romantic date, more high dosages of emotional angst, an insane Lucid powered throw down and the return of a certain dimensional manic >:)
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you are liking this story, please consider leaving a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading and as always, 
> 
> Until next time folks!


	19. The Lovers and The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 19! And oh boy, hope everyone's ready for shit to hit the fan.
> 
> I'd like to, as always, apologises for the late chapter. I am actually going on holiday to Thailand soon (I'll be bring my notes and IPad so I might be able to post whilst there) and what with Splatoon 2, Comic Con content dropping like it's hot cakes, it's been hard actually getting down to writing this chapter. Though I must say, I do believe that it is one of my better edited ones, alongside one of the longest.
> 
> A hhugggee thank you to all you lovelies who reviewed, and now I present you all, the next chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

Spades District, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirkland Residence

'No. No, Gaul I'm going to need that information by tonight.' Arthur insisted into his phone with a soft grunt as he straightened up out of the extended triangle pose. Alfred grimaced at the Brit's strength and flexibility as he shifted into the one-handed tree pose, effortlessly holding up his entire body by one hand, and shook his head with an exhausted huff when Arthur glanced up to him to see if he was still following.

Half way through Arthur's 'basic' yoga routine, Arthur had decided to call —what Alfred gathered to be—an information broker by the name of Gaul, to barter for Wang's location on the night of 'X's launch.

'Don't be ridiculous. Of course I am not going fly out to Cote d'azur with you. No— no, this is a serious matter, you goon. I can't leave Terra, and I need that information…Is that so? Tonight then? Right, we'll see you there,' Arthur wrapped up and ended the call, tossing his phone over to where their water bottles and towels lay on the other side of dojo floor.

'Cheeky git.'

'Wanna fill me in?' Alfred asked, offering a hand when Arthur lowered himself down.

Arthur gratefully took it and Alfred effortlessly heaved him up. 'Gaul's agreed to meet with us, only he's insisted it happen at one of his pompous gala's that he's fond of throwing upon returning to back from his travels.'

'Gala? You didn't say this guy was loaded.'

'Masquerade gala, and oh yes. He has no shortage of money. Information dealings is extremely profitable, pending on you to choose to deal with,' Arthur replied. 'And fair warning now, you will see at the gala that not all of Gaul's clients are ones that can be trusted.'

'So why are we going to him if he's got shade?' Alfred questioned and Arthur rolled his eyes.

'Because there's a reason he's the best in the business,' He stated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Alfred couldn't say he was reassured. Don't get it wrong, he had complete faith and trust in Arthur's word. But other people's? Not so much.

'I hope you have a proper suit. If not, I'm sure Allistor will be willing to lend you one of his.'

Alfred did a double take. 'Wait, wha—? S-suit? We aren't going in our usual suits?'

'Unless you like being laughed at or mobbed, then no. We won't be,' Arthur snorted. 'Honestly Columbia, this is a formal  _gala._ You're going to have to look the part if you want anyone to take you seriously.'

Alfred flinched at the sting of Arthur's words and scuffed the toe of his trainer against the floor as Arthur moved away to stare out the window that was the height and width of one of the room's walls. Outside, the people of Terra had began to rise and start another day…

'I am sorry Columbia,' Arthur sighed with his back to him, 'that was uncalled for. I—just what with everything that's happened, I'm a little wound up is all.'

Alfred hesitantly took a few steps to narrow the distance between them, before he reached out and slowly pulled Arthur to his chest, tucking his head into the crook of his collarbone.

'Maybe you  _should_  go to Cote d'azur. You're way stressed out.' Alfred muttered into his hair; slow, trailing hands felt how tense Arthur's shoulders beneath his t-shirt.

'You know what? After we've found the scientists, I say we both go,' Arthur chuckled, his hot breath splaying against his neck, and Alfred prayed he didn't pick up on how fast his heart sped up at the thought. A vacation, just the two of them in the Southeast of France. 'Lord knows we deserve it.'

'Not that I'm saying "no", but wouldn't there be— like, a whole bunch of problems with that? I mean, Terra won't have Britannia or Columbia to watch the streets.' Alfred reluctantly pointed out.

Arthur shrugged. 'We aren't the only ones watching the streets. I'm sure the city could survive a week without us.'

'The other guys wouldn't be able to cover our ground  _and_  their's.'

'Then we give the suits to Allistor and Seamus and let them play dress up.' Arthur bat back, and Alfred pulled away to look at the Brit who refused to meet his stare.

'What are you dodging B?,' Alfred appealed, and knew he had hit the nail on the head when Arthur bit down on his lower pouty lip. 'Talk to me.'

'It's Alfred,' Arthur confessed with a sniff and self-deprecating laugh, 'it's silly, but I thought…I thought that he might of called by now. He said that his head was in a complicated place, and I don't want to pressure him into anything, but still I…'

Alfred had to stop himself from smacking his forehead. 'Nice one asshole', his conscious snarked, 'you made Arthur cry.'. Goddammit, what was wrong with him? How simple would of it been to get Matthew to pass him his phone and send a quick text?

Admittedly, yeah, he  _had_  almost died so it hadn't been the most pressing thing on his mind. But clearly, it had been for Arthur; and that made Alfred want to punch himself in the face.

'Does he ever speak about me?' Arthur asked suddenly, his spring-green eyes round with a touch of vulnerability, and Alfred mentally groaned his frustration as he was once again forced to smother the all-consuming urge to lean in, take his face between his hands, and kiss him.

Instead, he'd just have to do the next best thing.

'Oh yeah. All the time,' Alfred said, his legs turning to jello at the perfect smile that beamed across Arthur's face.

'Really?' The Brit squeaked, before he cleared his throat and tried again, ' _Ahem_ — I mean, really?'

'Yep. He won't shut up. Always going on about how intelligent, and brave and talented you are. He thinks you're, like, the dopest person ever.'

Arthur's cheeks burned that lovely rose pink that made Alfred's throat go tight and his head stupid. 'I am not so sure. Yesterday, he and I… _had a moment_ , and while he didn't exactly push me away, there was something off with him. Some hesitation that I couldn't quite place,'

The Brit locked his gaze with Alfred, and Alfred was dragged down into the twin emerald veined rock pools; great onyx and viridescent caverns that promised no end to their allusive depths. An intangible quality lay embedded in the crystallised sentiment, such a quality that Alfred knew had enthralled many others before him, and would continue to do so long after.

"The eyes were the window to the soul" was universal, and yet, Alfred could not apply it to Arthur. When he looked into Arthur's eyes, he saw two images simultaneously; a labyrinth of dark corners and dark hallways; and a cocoon of exotic Arabian silk. In it's centre, one held a mighty horned beast, the other a beautiful creature of flight; both connected by delicate thread, a fine line that would lead those who clasped to it to the forbidden treasure inside that was Arthur's soul.

It was easy to understand how others, when they looked in Arthur's eyes as Alfred did now, liked to think they could see through Arthur's shroud to the beast within. They liked the beast. The beast was erratic. It provided excitement, the challenge to run and dance with it, empowering. The beast, the Britannia Angel, was larger than life itself, and yet, for all it's power and all it's radiance and it's worship: was alone.

Arthur was alone; living by the paradoxical duality in that he both rejected, and carved companionship. He needed someone that he could confine in completely, someone to peel back the complex layers, crack the cocoon he had entombed himself in. The bindings that restricted him, as they did protect, were suffocating the butterfly, like that of Hope in Pandora's box.

It was feeble, locked away, overshadowed by it's beastly counterpart, but there were cracks.

Alfred traced his fingertips down Arthur's arm to take his hand, encouraging those cracks to grow, and squeezed it.

'I know him Arthur. He likes you. Really, really likes you. He just— couldn't tell you at the time.'

Arthur sniffed again and he returned Alfred's squeeze. 'You are too good to me, Columbia. I feel so undeserving of it.'

Alfred gulped around the lump in his throat, his eyes pricking at the corners. 'Gotta use the bathroom. Be right back.' He rasped before turning on his heel and sprinted up the stairs to leave Arthur in his dust; mouth left hanging open to respond too late.

He didn't stop his momentum until he slammed into the back of the party sofa where Matthew sat flipping through the TV channels with Seamus and Allistor.

'Matt. Phone.  _Now._ ' Alfred wheezed and snatched it out of his brother's hand when it was tentatively held up for him, before spinning back around to launch himself into the Kirkland's restroom.

After slamming the door shut and locking it, Alfred immediately opened his messages from Laura and dialled in Arthur's number that she had sent him. As the tone rang, he grind his teeth together to stop them from gnawing his nails, his heart in his chest threatening to burst.

His free hand had been attempting to smooth down his gravity-defying cowlick when Arthur finally picked up.

'Hello?'

'Arthur!' Alfred jumped, his voice bouncing octaves before he quickly turned his head away from the mic and coughed. 'Arthur— Hey, hey Arthur. This is…hey.'

'I'm sorry. Who?'

Alfred sucked in a deep breath and swiped his drenched hands on a railed towel. Get it together, Alfred. It is no different from all the other times they had spoken. He just knew the whole truth now, and that made every word weighted.

'Sorry! Sorry, it's Alfred.'

'Oh!,' Arthur's voice gasped, and Alfred could visualise that english-rose flush, 'Alfred! Alfred, you— how are you?'

'Yeah, I'm good. I'm good. I uh— I actually wanted to call you. About yesterday.'

'Oh.  _Oh_ ,' Arthur breathed with realisation, and Alfred shivered, goosebumps rippling down his spine at the knowledge that he was just nervous as he was.

How on earth was he going to keep this up?

'Yeah, so, I was thinking— wondering if you wanted to do…an activity, together?'

There was a second of stunned silence across the line before it was broken by an adorable giggle. 'An  _activity?_ ,' Arthur laughed, the rare sound magical. 'and of what sort, did you have in mind?'

Alfred's eyes dropped to the spread magazine on the sink counter; the front page highlighting the founding festival's parade floats, and a sneak preview event taking place that afternoon.

'How about we go see the parade floats? I hear that this year's theme is Alice in the Wonderland.' Alfred suggested, regarding the colourful illustration of said character, and thinking how eerily similar she looked like Arthur with her tangled, golden mess of hair.

'Wonderland, eh?,' Arthur said with a missable huff, 'I'd love to Alfred.'

The American's heart fluttered and the corners of his mouth pulled up into a wide grin. 'Great! It's a date! See you in an hour?'

'S-see you in an hour.' Arthur stammered before Alfred cut the call and fist punched the air.

YES!

Alfred opened the restroom door just in time to see Arthur emerge from downstairs, dreamily humming a tune that he recognised as Disney's Cinderella's 'So this is love.'

He had to work hard not to smile when he swayed over, heading for the stairs.

'What's got you in a good mood?' He couldn't resist asking. Arthur's smile lit up the room as he beamed.

'Oh, nothing,' He sang and began to ascend the stairs. 'I'm afraid that I'll have to take a rain check on the theory testing. Meet here tonight before we head for Gaul's, yes?'

'Ay-up! Where are you going?' Seamus called from over the sofa and Arthur threw a dismissive wave over his shoulder.

'None of your business, nosey! Columbia, remember your suit!' He shouted down to Alfred before disappearing for his room. Alfred waved up goodbye to him, and the moment the door clicked shut, ripped off the Columbia goggles and bolted for the front door, fisting his pockets for his bike's key.

'Eh?! Where are  _you_  going now?' Matthew cried out after him, and Alfred copied the same gesture Arthur had shown to his brother.

'Gotta date! Give Arthur an excuse for me! Cheers!'

'Ehhh?! Wait!'

But the elevator doors were already sliding shut on Alfred's ecstatic face.

* * *

Terra City, Hearts District, Queen's Square

The Heart's Queen's square was cram-packed with colourful fair stalls, food trucks and people, all excited for the preview founding event despite the looming overhead clouds that threatened to rain. Over by a quaint bakery that bordered the edge of the stalls, Arthur let out a heavy sigh as he watched the Cheshire Cat parade float be wheeled forward onto the town square's stage.

This was wrong. He was supposed to be happy; Alfred had invited him out on a date. A date!

And yet, literally everywhere he looked, Arthur was reminded of how much he missed Wonderland,  _his_ Wonderland. It had been years since he had last visited, and during that time he had written it off, unable to think of any reason why he wasn't able to enter. Now, he was certain that Hatter was behind it, deliberately keeping him away.

It set his teeth on edge, the thoughts of how malnourished it must be without him; the meadow's grass dry and yellow, the woods rotten and streams clogged. Wonderland was a place of emotional and mental healing for Arthur, and to be deprived of it…

If he was going to have any chance against Hatter, he needed to reconnect with Wonderland; bring back spring and build up his strength and magic. And to reconnect with Wonderland, he would have to be beyond where Hatter could misdirect him. He had to stay close to Columbia, because for whatever bizarre and miraculous reason, nothing Lucid could effect the American hero.

Arthur frowned and turned to look at his reflection in the shop window that he leant against. In truth, Columbia had been superhumanly understanding about him and his feelings for Alfred. Had the positions been reversed, Arthur couldn't be confident that he would have acted as maturely as Columbia had; and he felt a swell of great admiration for that.

So lost in his thoughts, Arthur jumped when there was a rippling roar of a motorbike engine, and turned to see Alfred pull onto the pavement, kicking up the park stand before he took off his helmet and shook out his messy hair.

Good god. Every time he saw him, Arthur could of sworn that Alfred grew more and more attractive. Every time, he ravelled at just how  _right_ it felt to see him again.

When their eyes met, Arthur couldn't stop the rush of blood to his cheeks at the intensity of Alfred's gaze as he strolled up to him, a trace of what he could only label as awe there.

'Hey.' The American greeted in a soft tone, the very same that he had used before they had kissed, and the memory of it made Arthur lightheaded.

'H-Hello Alfred,' He stammered. 'It's—it is to good to see you again.'

'Y-yeah. Right back at ya,' Alfred sheepishly scratched his nose, before he nodded to the bustling fair stalls, 'So, wanna check out the floats?'

Arthur returned the nod and followed Alfred's lead into the stands, slipping between two pinstriped tents to emerge onto the strip. The smell of glazed doughnuts and sugary sweets inlaced with cheery classical music as they strolled, idle chatter and the shrill screams of children as they raced one another.

Five times, Arthur caught Alfred looking at him, and he at Alfred; slight, flighting glances. Seven times the backs of their hands had brushed against each other. After the fourth, Arthur had decided that it was not innocently on Alfred's end.

An offering? Baiting? Was Alfred expecting him to initiate the first move, like he had with their kiss? Should he? But if he did, how would that look? Too eager? Of course, he  _was_  eager, very much so, but he didn't want Alfred to think him desperate!

The argument ran around in tortuous circles into Arthur's mind, and it was when Alfred loudly cleared his throat—breaking the turning awkward, suspended silence— and pointed up to the parade float that showcased a colossal cyan blue caterpillar, surrounded by plastic flowers and small animatronic butterflies.

Arthur sighed up at it's familiar wrinkled old face; Absolem, one of his first friends to inhabit Wonderland.

'Major kudos to the dude who built that,' Alfred complimented, not noticing how Arthur's smile had deflated. 'And this is just one float! The rest of Wonderland is gonna look ace.'

'I had a Wonderland,' Arthur lamented before he could stop himself, and found that his throat was suddenly very dry. Alfred was staring at him with the same intensity as before; as though he were the only person in the world. 'W-When I was very little, of course. It was so similar to all this.'

'Did it have the same characters? The White Queen, Cheshire Cat, the White Rabbit,' Alfred listed them on his fingers, pausing on the little finger to watch Arthur's face. 'The Mad Hatter.'

A chilled shiver,  _his warning shiver_ , trickled down his spine, and Arthur violently struggled to keep his face neutral. It…it was impossible for Alfred to know what that name meant to him, and yet, there was an undeniable, underlying suggestiveness there.

No.

It. Was. Not. Possible. Alfred could not know. His bloody brothers hadn't even known until but an hour ago.

His rationalising did nothing to undo the knot of his stomach.

'Yes. All of them. Wonderland was a special place for me. It was somewhere I could escape to.' Arthur answered with a sad smile, and was thankful that Alfred chose not to push the subject.

When it came time to turn at the corner of the strip, Alfred looked sideways with interest at the cornerstone royal-purple teepee, the top of it slightly smoking with a strange blue smoke. Outside, was a propped up sign of a sparkling crystal ball with the words, 'Mystic Meg's'

'Hey, this looks fun!' The American said and ducked in before Arthur could make up an excuse not to. Inside the tent, he could sense the presence of someone Lucid, and considering that his face was the front page headline in every Lucid dream, he was not exactly keen to be recognised.

The burst of Alfred's excitement, and the discovery that the interior was extremely dark, was the tipping point for Arthur. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he crouched low to step over the threshold.

The fortune teller's teepee was securely up there with some of the more claustrophobic spaces that Arthur had been in; lit only by five black candles, the small space was overly suffocated with spiced incense. At the back, atop a mountain of complied cushions behind a fat, low, round table, sat who Arthur could only presume was 'Mystic Meg' herself.

She was not the hagged old woman that the stereotype would expect you to expect. Arthur judged Meg to be in her late forties, with a noticeable strands of silver amongst the chestnut brown and the light crease of wrinkles around her eyes that came with smiling often. He imagined that outside her (successful?) far sighting career, she was an avid lover of green tea and herbal gardening.

Meg's dark eyes twinkled in the flickering candlelight as Arthur joined Alfred at the table, shooting him a dubious glance as he sat down on the ground beside him. Luckily, the candles were low enough to only illuminate the table before them.

'Interested in what the future holds, are we boys?' Meg purred, and Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the overly enthusiastic bobbing of Alfred's head.

'Heck yeah we are! Magic is super rad, right Arthur?'

'For children's parties, I suppose.' Arthur coughed, wafting his hand through the smoke in front of his face, and caught the secretive look that Meg sent his way. There was the unspoken rule among the Lucid community: unless deliberately initiated, never talk about your Lucidity in front of those otherwise unknowing of it. Arthur fully intended to keep to it, even if it meant telling a few white lies.

Meg chuckled and reached for something stashed below the table. When held up to the light, Arthur saw that it was a deck of tarot cards.

'Then I shall entertain the children,' She smirked with a wink before her slender hands began to expertly shuffle her deck, cards sliding and shifting so fast that Arthur struggled to keep track.

'Your charge?' He asked conspicuously.

Meg cocked her head. 'The satisfaction of my curiosity is charge enough,' She said before she motioned to Alfred. 'You. I will begin with you. Your stars shine bright and clear, this will be a simple reading, for a simple soul.'

Arthur watched Alfred adorably chewed on his lower lip in anticipation as Meg drew six cards and fanned them across the table with a sweep.

'We begin with the card that best represents you,' Meg turned over the leftmost card. 'The Fool—'

'Hey! That's not very nice!' Alfred blurted and Arthur leant in to whisper in his ear.

'She's not calling you names, you daft duck. Tarot cards use pictures and symbols to represent certain qualities and themes. They can be 'read' to create a story or prediction.' He filled in, and Alfred bowed his head apologetically for his outburst.

Meg continued as though the outburst hadn't happened.

'The Fool. A young soul from humble beginnings. He is one that seeks to gain experience, and grow from a boy into a man…The next card I turn over, will be a misfortune that you will face in the near future,' Meg warned, and turned over said card.

Arthur's blood temperature plummeted.

'The Devil. A card belonging to Mars, the planet associated with violence, obsession, passion and sex. Despite what you may think the Devil is something not predestined to be good nor evil. The satyr, the Capricorn, portrayed on the card, is believed in some cultures to be an unclean and lustful animal'

'Woah,' Alfred breathed, and Arthur forced his breaths to stay regular. Coincidence. It had to be. 'That's kinda dark.'

'Next will be a misfortune in your more distant future,' Meg turned the card over to reveal a pale full moon, 'The Moon, the card of deception, and unseen enemies. The Moon often represents your 'shadow self', a persona born from your anxieties, fears and repressed thoughts. Be extremely wary of who you place your trust in, young man. I shall now reveal the consequence should you fail to rise above these misfortunes,'

The card flipped, and so did Arthur's gut, inducing him with an engulfing wave of nausea.

An ash skull stared at them with pitiless, black, hollow eye sockets.

'Death,' Meg sighed. 'In this negative light, the thirteenth major arcana brings death, destruction and destroyed hope. T-This is what awaits you should you fail.'

'And how do I avoid that?' Alfred muttered in an equally low tone, and the fortune teller revealed the next card.

'Strength. The gentle woman taming the great lion. The infinity symbol above her head is same found in the Magician card, her white dress is that of the innocent Fool. This card is of mental and physical power, courage and action. The crowned woman tames the king of the beasts through compassion and patience. She forgives it's imperfections, and creates a controlled environment which she and her lion are safe. Through your strength, you will be victorious, and be rewarded with—'

The next card was of a man and woman, embraced in a passionate kiss, bathed in sunlight.

'The Lovers,' Meg breathed. 'Connected to love, beauty, harmony and overcome trials. The above archangel of air blesses and protects the man and woman to signify that their bond is a sacred one. The Lovers can indicate a strong sexual connection that goes beyond instant gratification and lust, suggesting deep passion between the two. The physical attraction and desire to be intimate is strong.'

'I guess that kinda makes up for the whole death thing.' Alfred quipped, his cheeks flush whilst Arthur clenched his hands into tight fists to prevent him from shaking the American.

How could he take this so lightly?! She was Lucid was Christ's sake! Arthur could sense her Bleeding. These predictions were not fiction, they were true.

Alfred would face a devil, and if he was not strong enough, he would die.

Arthur bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to stifle a scream.

_Oh god. No._

'And now onto you, my dear,' Meg announced, the new deck already set, her hand already touching the card before Arthur could protest against it.

'The Magician. A powerful skilled card under the planet Mercury. It carries skill, logic and intellect, but has also known harsh pain and loss. The Magician is the bridge between the spirit world and the world of humanity, his right hand holding the staff extends skyward, his left points to the ground. The Magician's robe is white, symbolising the purity found in the Fool, but his cloak is red, representing worldly experience and knowledge. There is a mix of flowers at his feet, pure white lilies of death, and thorny red roses of passion.'

The next card was of a dark tower, a great bolt of yellow lighting crashing down on top.

Arthur gritted his teeth even as Meg's face paled. He was familiar with tarot cards enough to know that he had been drawn the worst of all the deck.

'The Tower, foreshadowing calamity, unforeseen catastrophe and ruin. It tells of destruction on a physical scale, opposed to a spiritual one. The figures that fall from the tower correspond to the chained prisoners in the Devil card, and is also ruled by the planet Mars.' Meg whispered, and Arthur could of sworn that he spied a tear slide down her cheek.

'And my distant future?' Arthur snapped when she made no further move, seemingly in shock before she shook her head.

'The Hanged Man,' She divulged, waving her hand over the card with a crying man with a noose around his neck. 'The Hanged Man speaks of wisdom, trials, restriction and sacrifice. He is a willing victim, one who had chosen the path of sacrifice for the greater good, a higher cause. The ultimate martyr. Your fate, should you fall to these misfortunes—'

A burning chariot that blazed through the sky, reminding Arthur of Apollo's legendary Sun chariot.

'The Chariot. The card of war and conquest, but in this case, defeat. The Chariot holds the same wand as the Magician does in his, both cards control through the strength of their will. With this, you stand to lose everything, young magician. Your peril is to be conquered by your enemy.'

Arthur gulped as Hatter's face skimmed across his mind's eye. 'What must I do?'

'The Emperor. Ties with stability, power, protection and realisation. You must find the one that will provide you with all this. He is a natural-born leader who commands authority and respect, ruling with a firm, but fair hand. Unafraid of war, and has no hesitance to use force and his power to protect those he cares about. Find them, stand by them, and you will be blessed with,' Meg turned over the final card, revealing…

'The Sun,' She beamed, and the sob that arise from Arthur's chest almost escaped. 'The Sun card promises happiness, fortunate marriage, contentment, and earthly peace. It is the image of optimism and fulfilment, the dawn that follows the darkest night. The Sun brings success, radiance and abundance. It reflects the value of simplicity, the freedom to experience the purest pleasures to life, such as spending times with loved ones.'

There was a pregnant silence. Arthur and Alfred exchanged a glance.

'Don't suppose you could tell us who this Emperor is gonna be?' Alfred sheepishly tried with a smile.

Meg chuckled as she shook her head. 'The stars are never quite so specific, I am afraid.'

'Seriously, are you sure you're okay with no money? I mean, you deserve something.' Alfred insisted, but Meg just shook her head again.

'You two have good hearts. It was an honour to read your stars. May…may I have a moment with you, young magician?'

Arthur regarded her up and down before he gave a tight nod and gestured for Alfred to step outside. 'Go on. I'll be out shortly.'

Alfred mirrored the nod, before he stepped up and exited the teepee, the flap inviting in a shock of grey light from outside. Arthur ducked his head to avoid it, so that Meg would not see his face, and jumped when she surged forward to grab his hand.

'Who are you?' She demanded, all earlier friendly pretence gone.

'You already know the answer to that,' Arthur curtly stated, twisting his wrist in an attempt to free it. 'I am the same as you.'

'You are nothing like me. There is no one like you, I have never seen  _anyone_  like you. Your aura, it—there is a blackhole surrounding it, a-and a voice echoes from it's centre.'

'That is not the first time I've been told that.' Arthur gritted, recalling the child assassin that had strangled him. He to had spoke of a voice, and now, Arthur knew that it was Hatter. Hatter was reaching out through those that were Lucid to get to him.

'It  _pines_  for you, young magician. It speaks about you…as though you were it's lover. W-What is it?'

Arthur locked eyes with her, and took the risk of leaning forward into the light. Meg's pupils constricted with recognition.

'The Devil.' He stated, wrenching his wrist free, and stood up.

'You—You're—' Meg shot up off her cushion mountain, mouth agape.

'Yes. I am. No, I don't know why everyone is dreaming about me, so don't bother asking.' Arthur cut out.

Meg shut her mouth and rubbed her temples, struggling to get her thoughts together.

'I—I won't. I won't, just please—'

'And I'll warn you now. Do not follow me. Do not try to follow me, do not tell anyone else like us who I am.' Arthur growled, injecting as much venom behind his words as he could, and turned for the exit.

'Please! I have to tell you!' Meg near shrieked, and the shrill pitch made Arthur stop short.

'Tell me, what?'

The fortuneteller took in a deep breath. 'There is an ancient Chinese proverb. "An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. The thread may stretch or tangle, but never break."…I see this thread between you and the young man you came with…He's your Sun. Never let that wondrous light of his fade. Do not.'

'Never.' Arthur promised, and stepped out of the fortuneteller's tent, missing the twin streaks of tears that slid down her cheeks.

* * *

Alfred stretched his arms high above his head with a drawn out groan, loosening up his cramped up shoulders. Man! He wasn’t quite sure what to think about what Mystic Meg had told them; it being a classic case of; on one hand: beauty, love, and harmony, on the other: death, destruction and devastation... 

 

Sounded fair game.

Alfred smirked as he wandered over to the flower stall across the path. He nodded at the cute redhead that manned the counter when she looked up from her nails, and examined the rows of lined up bouquets. His hand was reaching for a bunch of white roses when someone appeared at his elbow to make him jump out of his skin. 

‘Not a good choice. Red always trumps white. Every time.’ Arthur chuckled, and Alfred raised a brow at him after he recovered. 

‘Weren’t you going to talk to Mystic Meg?’ He asked, looking back to the tent, and Arthur waved his question away with a dismissive motion. 

‘Nope. Decided it wasn’t worth it,’ The Brit piped in a singsong, bouncing on his toes before reaching out and plucking up one of the roses. ‘These really are awful. Tacky flowers, for a tacky little shop. Hmmm—We could always paint the roses red? What do you think Alfie?’

What did he think? Alfred was thinking how he didn’t like this out-of-the-blue arrogance that Arthur was flaunting. From the corner of his eye, he saw the redhead’s lip curl in distaste and begin furiously typing on her phone. 

‘Arthur. Dude,’ He levelled, his gut churning by how unfazed Arthur seemed by his uncharacteristic rudeness. ‘What the hell? Why are you acting like this?’ 

‘What? I’m not wrong,’ Arthur drawled as he twirled the rose around and the stopped to look at Alfred that gave him the strangest impulse to bolt. ‘Oh dear. That was quicker than I thought.’

‘What was—Hmmh?!’ Alfred frowned before Arthur latched his arms around his neck to wrench him down, and mushed their lips against each other. 

Alfred’s hands went up, his eyes wide open as he struggled to understand what was happening. This was nothing like their first kiss. There was too much force, Arthur pushing too hard against him from it to feel pleasurable. It was sour, and it tasted all wrong. 

When his lungs started to scream, Alfred was forced to flex his super-strength as he pried Arthur off him, holding him back as though he would a snapping dog. His eyes searched Arthur’s face for an explanation, some kind of answer. But Arthur wasn’t looking at him, and he was grinning from ear to ear. 

Alfred followed his stare, and froze. 

Arthur stood stunned in front of the fortuneteller’s tent, all blood drained from him with a look of utter terror plastered onto his face. 

‘Alfred,’ He choked, his wobbly voice cracking whilst his lips scarcely moved. Alfred had never seen him look so scared, as though he were about to burst into tears there and then. ‘Get away from him.’

 

_What._

Arthur—the Arthur who Alfred could still taste—let out a high giggle, and Alfred stiffened when he twisted his fingers into his hair, pink tongue darting out to sinfully slide over his lips.

‘Ello Poppet~’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. Ha..Ha... *cries*
> 
> Raise your hand if you're ready for Arthur to go ballistic!
> 
> For anyone confused, the second misfortunes relate to what will happen in Down the Rabbit Hole's sequel, because oh yeah, that's happening.
> 
> Reading up on tarot card meanings and assigning them to Arthur and Alfred respectively was so much fun. But real moment in this chapter that punched me in the gut was Arthur's 'Does he ever speak about me?' to Alfred, and I just- *launches self into volcano*
> 
> Like to say one more time: I am going on holiday to Thailand soon for about two weeks. I'll be taking my notes and IPad so I might be able to post whilst there, but please don't expect too much.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you are liking this story, please consider leaving a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions about it! Once again, thank you for reading and as always,
> 
> Until next time folks!
> 
> (But dat cliffhanger tho ;))


	20. His Hatter who waited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20! Wow, twenty chapters, geez where has the time gone? As always, a humongous thank you to you wonderful folk who have stuck with me and reviewed. Your support is everything!
> 
> Now let's dive right back in to Down the Rabbit Hole,
> 
> Enjoy!

Terra City, Heart's District, Queen's Square

Arthur Kirkland was not faint hearted. He had seen horrors that would of made the toughest of war veterans and the most experienced homicide detectives cry themselves to sleep. He had seen enough blood and gore to become desensitised to it all. Arthur did not flinch, he did not cower in the face of danger.

And yet, the sight of Alfred, standing defencelessly in the arms of his greatest demon, was enough to completely unravel his composure; the all other senses fading away with white sound so that only the three of them existed in that moment.

Hatter, smiling an ear-splitting smile with Arthur's face, tightened his hold around the shellshocked Alfred so that they were practically chest to chest. Leisurely, he traced the defined shape of Alfred's Adam's apple, before drawing a gasp from the American when the fingers morphed into sharp shards like that of glass—no, a mirror—and lightly dug into the vulnerable, soft skin.

Arthur's limbs were frozen. His lungs screamed for air that he had stopped inhaling.

_No._

'It's nice to know that I can still take your breath away,' Hatter purred and cocked his head to the side as his face shimmered into that of a young woman's —no more than seventeen—, before it reverted back to Arthur's, 'how do you like the new suit? Her name's Mary~'

'Let him go,' Arthur rasped around the suffocating lump that had formed in his throat, making his words wobble. 'Just let him go Hatter.'

'Oh Arthur. But where is the fun in that? I finally get the chance to meet our cutie pie Alfie, and you want me to leave so soon? That's rather rude of you, love.' Hatter tutted with finger wag, and Arthur was already tensing; readying himself to Bleed, to lunge and blast the arm that held Alfred off, when Hatter pricked his shard fingers and made Alfred flinch at the drawn blood.

'Now, now. Let's not lose our heads here, Arthur. You wouldn't want to misbehave and have Alfie lose his, would you now?' Hatter grinned when Arthur's body locked up, his eyes hawklike and calculating; estimating whether or not he could close the distance in time.

'You're fast, love. But he'll hit the floor before you can even consider moving.'

Arthur's shoulders shook, tight and knotted, before they slumped. Hatter was right. He'd never make it. 'What do you want?' He ground between his teeth, his heart clenching painfully that the little shake of Alfred's head and the soundless 'No' on his lips.

'We'll all be taking a little trip somewhere more private for what I have in mind. There is a car for us over there,' Hatter gestured to the parked limousine not five foot away on the road. 'now, let's get a move on, shall we?'

* * *

Alfred had never sat so still in his life as he had done in the back of that limo, knife fingers pressing against his thorax with Arthur's psycho look-a-like sat beside him, staring at him like he were a puzzle piece. In the plush leather seat opposite, Arthur sat rigid and upright, glaring at Hatter with enough venom that Alfred suffered from secondhand shivers.

The limousine's engine purred nearly soundlessly as it weaved through the streets of downtown Hearts toward the bridge that connected the Spades District. In a small background part of his mind, Alfred wondered about their driver and why he was working with Hatter.

Alfred jumped when an unwanted clawed fingertip slowly trailed down his cheek.

'I must admit, there is a certain charm to him. Healthy, handsome, tall. A boy on the brink of manhood. I can see the attraction.' Hatter lazily mused, the some tone of that one would use to discuss the weather.

'Hatter.'

'A half decent kisser to,'

Alfred's pulse leapt when Arthur started forward out of his seat, looking ready to throttle the demon. But Hatter tapped his clawed fingertip suggestively beneath Alfred's eye, and Arthur robotically forced himself back down; his fists curled so tightly into fists that they were bone white.

'Good boy,' Hatter smirked and ran his gaze up and down the Brit. 'Tell me, what did you think of my message?'

'You put a target on my back.' Arthur growled back, and refused to meet Alfred's bewildered stare. What the heck were they talking about? Message?

'It was the best way to keep an eye on you. Still, I wonder what dear old Daddy is thinking?' Hatter chuckled, and Alfred saw Arthur jaw square just before the limousine pulled to a stop.

* * *

Terra City, Spades District, Bridgewater: Home for the Clinically Insane.

Hatter made Arthur step out onto the pavement first, and walk a foot ahead of he and Alfred into the madhouse. An old gold nugget amongst Terra's collection of high-tech medical faculties, Bridgewater had been built in the late sixties, and had received little love and care since; with thick bushes of ivy climbing up it's weathered red brick walls and dirty stained windows. Remarkably, none of the members of staff thought their arrival odd when they stepped into the aged reception hall, and Arthur imagined that they must of been told to expect it, or at least turn the other way.

The real kicker however, was the moment Arthur saw the two Chinese yakuza marching very deliberately toward them. Wang's men! But—what the devil was Hatter doing involved with Wang?!

The two suited yakuza eyed Arthur expectantly before they narrowed their dark eyes at Alfred. 'Who is he?' One questioned to Hatter, and Hatter responded with a wink.

'Some collateral to ensure our guest stays on his best behaviour,' He giggled before gesturing for movement. 'Come now, chop chop! We haven't got all day.'

Arthur had no choice but to comply as the yakuza took a hold of an arm each and proceeded to half-drag, half-frogmarch him deeper into the building, Hatter and Alfred following behind.

The air of sickness and madness was palpable as they tracked through the madhouse's long corridors and hallways; lined by locked rooms, offices and laboratories. Arthur's stomach squirmed as they entered the eerily labelled 'High Risk' ward, the archway branching out into a large recreation room where patients idled; quietly talking, playing cards or otherwise wistfully staring out of the barred windows. All the subdued activities were supervised by the head nurse behind a walled off desk like that of a shop front. Her heavily made up eyes tracked the company as they pasted through toward the isolation chambers.

They took Arthur to the very end, and slid open the iron cast door to reveal a padded room with a cuffed chair at it's centre, flanked by two expressionless nurses either side. Arthur's feet stumbled over themselves, and he bucked against his restrainers when one of the nurses approached him with a white straitjacket.

'Hold still dear.' She invisibly smiled behind her surgeon mask with sickly sweetness.

'Stop! Arthur, just get outta here—Argck!' Alfred choked when Hatter tightened his grip around his neck. Arthur felt as though meat hooks were attached to both sides of his ribs, pulling apart the bone cage with agonising slowness. Every part of Arthur recoiled at the prospect of the straitjacket. But the prospect of losing Alfred was unbearably worse.

Arthur's head dropped, and he held his arms out in defeat. The nurses strapped him into the jacket none too carefully, tugging hard on the buckles to ensure they were tight enough. Arthur allowed them to push him back onto the chair and belt him in, evaporating any chance he may of had escaping.

The Brit couldn't bring himself to look at Alfred, whether for shame, guilt, or his own self-control. Instead, he stared at the metal trolley where one of the nurses had moved over to to prepare —what Arthur was certain was, even from his prostrated angle— a syringe.

'Take him. I want everyone out for this part.' Hatter ordered with a glint in his eye as it ran over Arthur, and Alfred was handed over to the yakuza.

'Arthur.' Alfred paled, wide blue eyes darting between him and Hatter. Arthur's flesh broke into goosebumps as he recognised the coiled tension in Alfred's body language. He— he had to stop him before the idiot did something that would get him killed.

'It's alright Alfred.' Arthur reassured as softly as he could, surprising himself at how calm he sounded despite his circumstances; strapped down, about to be injected with god knows what. Completely at the mercy of a psychotic monster. 'Just— sit tight. I'll be fine.'

'Arthur I can't—'

'Get out  _now_.' Hatter snarled, his voice thunder incarnate, and Arthur shared a last, desperate look with Alfred before he was dragged out of the room; the nurses ominously sliding shut the iron door with finality.

Arthur glared with the intensity to burn a hole through Hatter's head as he locked the door and strode over to the trolley. 'You  _fucking coward_.'

'Oh please. You knew that this was coming.' Hatter muttered as he picked up and flicked the syringe to collect the trapped air bubbles and squirted them out. 'You knew that I would make contact with you sooner or later.'

'I didn't expect you to make a friend while you were at it.' Arthur accused and Hatter rolled his eyes.

'Wang? Hardly. An arrogant, greedy little man who is no more than a pawn.' He dismissed and turned to Arthur.

'In what game? This whole business with the missing scientists and 'X', are you it's puppet master? Why?'

Hatter leant in a bopped Arthur on the nose. 'Aw, love~ That would be spoiling it, wouldn't it?'

A grunt escaped from Arthur when Hatter forced his head back against the chair to expose his neck, and raised the needle's point in his other hand to search for a vein.

'You're not going to tell me what is it?' Arthur gasped, wincing at the prick whilst his lids already began to grow heavy, partly sliding shut.

Through the hazy spots that began to swallow up his vision, Arthur saw Hatter grin his cheshire-cat grin and tap the side of his nose.

'It's like I said, love. Spoilers~'

* * *

Alfred waited. Waited and bide his time as he led away from isolation the room they had Arthur, back through the recreation room and down into the holding cells. The yakuza split off and left the nurses to finish the job of locking Alfred up.

The American waited for the barred door to be slid open with a metal screech and both nurses to be behind him before he lashed out with a roundhouse kick. The two women slumped to the floor and Alfred let them, his lip curling as he dragged them into his intended cell and proceeded to strip the taller one of her scrubs and pull them on.

The only problem was, said scrubs were quite clearly intended for it's female owner, with her name tag 'Marge' sewn in on the breast pocket. Alfred clicked his tongue at it, but made no move to rip it off. Hopefully no one would look too closely.

Keeping a ever vigilant eye over his shoulder, Alfred retread his steps back up the stairwell and thought about his next steps.

Even with his super strength and supposed immunity to Lucid powers, Alfred had no desire to charge to Arthur's rescue guns blazing. That path would likely bring the entirety of the building's security  _and_ TPD down on him. No. He needed to avoid conflict as much as necessary.

Alfred pulled out his phone, and hissed when he saw he had no bars. Shit. He was going to need a working phone to.

A working phone…like the one he had seen on the desk of the recreational room. The corner of Alfred's mouth curled upwards and he returned his phone to his pocket to set off with renewed enthusiasm.

Now he was getting somewhere.

* * *

'Hey, how's it going?,' Alfred winked as he leant down onto his elbows and peered through the recreation room's front desk's protective glass. The young nurse behind it blushed a deep crimson, and her lipstick stained lips opened and closed wordlessly, resembling a goldfish.

'Listen, sorry to be pain in the butt, but I'm still kinda figuring out the ropes of this place, and— Ha, well— it's kinda embarrassing, but I've totally forgotten what the code is for the phones. Could you be a doll and help a guy out?'

'O-of course! Here, please—use mine.' She stuttered with an averted gaze before she disappeared and opened the side door into the small room.

'You're an angel.' Alfred thanked with one of his most dazzling smiles, and chuckled when the woman hid her face in her hands and ducked out to run to the bathroom.

The inside of the little room was cramped with too much furniture and towers of paperwork that Alfred had to dig through before he found the landline and punched in Matthew's number.

The tone rang for several seconds.

'Hey bro. How's the date with Kirkland going?' Matthew answered.

'Matt, listen to me. Arthur and I are in trouble. Big trouble. Hatter is real and has us at Bridgewater in Spades.' Alfred spilled, hardly taking a pause between words. 'He's got Arthur trapped in this room. I'm free and making my way to him, but we're going to need a ride outta here.'

Over the line, Alfred heard the thunder of footsteps and a door slam. 'Allistor, Seamus and Dylan are on their way. Jesus— just, be careful Alfred.' Matthew whispered.

Alfred nodded and cut the line just as the young nurse reappeared at the door; the American pretty sure that she'd reapplied a new coat of cherry red lipstick. However, before she could speak and ask a potentially embarrassing question, Alfred handed her back the phone and sucked his gut to ease past her.

'Thanks hun, appreciate it.' He saluted with two fingers and jogged for the hallway that led to Arthur; nodding his head to passing staff to blend in.

Upon coming in to turn the last corner, Alfred skidded to a halt and ducked back to hug the wall when he saw the two yakuza men guarding the metal door at the end.

'Tell me you didn't think it was weird that they had the same face.' One muttered to the other, Alfred straining his hearing to listen in.

'Hm?'

' _Him._ Him and the Lucid guy they're testing the modified strain of 'X' on. They had the same face. It was fucking weird.'

'Listen kid, once you get to my age, you learn that sometimes it's just better not to question these kind of things.'

Alfred gulped thickly around the lump that had formed in his throat. They had injected Arthur with  _fucking_ 'X'.

The older of two suddenly put his finger to his wired earpiece before he motioned for the younger to follow him down the hall toward Alfred. The American held his breath as they pasted by, releasing it heavily once they were out of sight, and moved.

'Arthur, I'm coming.'

* * *

The summer's sunlight shone aglow in the fragrant, green meadow below; it's golden rays warming the slight breeze that blew through the long grass and wildflowers. There was not a single puffy white cloud in the sky, and the faint chatter of harmonising birdsong echoed from the bordering woods.

It was a perfect day, so Hatter could not phantom what was wrong with Arthur as he sat at his table in sullen silence; his tea untouched, eyes downcast, and finger distantly combing through Dormouse's fur as he snoozed beside him.

Hatter simply could not understand. There was nothing wrong with the table's spread, the usual company were together, and he hadn't  _thought_  the conversation was lacking; Arthur was always rather fond of the riddles and poems they'd exchange when the french fancies came out. But, not today apparently…

Perhaps— Perhaps, he just needed a particularly humorous riddle to liven his spirits!

'Say Arthur,' Hatter piped, deliberately ignoring Hare as he attempted to fit his entire head into the nearest teapot. 'do you know, why a raven is like a writing desk?'

'Because Poe wrote on both of them?' Arthur glumly sighed.

Hatter opened his mouth to laugh,  _No, wrong silly~,_ but he closed it again when Arthur slumped back into his armchair with his arms crossed. Alright, something was definitely not on.

Clearing his throat pointedly at Hare to silence his antics, Hatter scooted up his high-backed chair and reached his hand out.

'Arthur? What has upset you so?' He asked and waited patiently.

It got a few moments before Arthur sighed again and uncross his arms, leaning forward to tap his fingernail against his china plate; still not meeting Hatter's gaze.

'I met some other children my age today.'

Hatter beamed. Finally! Arthur spent far too much time around people older than him in Hatter's opinion; he imagined it wasn't exactly healthy for his emotional and mental development. 'That's fantastic! Were they nice? What did you play?'

'We didn't play anything! They were too busy laughing at me.' Arthur cried.

'Hold on. Why on earth were they laughing at you?' Hatter asked bewildered with raised brows that furrowed when Arthur tucked his knees up and curled around them.

'They called me weird because I told them about the fairies that were following us. I was the only one that could see them. They said that I was funny in the head if I believed in fairies,' Arthur mumbled with a sniff before he wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jumper. 'Hatter? Is—is there something wrong with me?'

'No! No, no, of course there is nothing wrong with you!' Hatter was quick to reassure, but the dubious line between Arthur's brows didn't smooth.

'Then why did those children say so?'

Hatter breathed in a deep breath and took Arthur's small hands into his and squeezed. 'You are special Arthur. You're special because you can see incredible things. Others can't, and because they can't, they aren't able to understand you. It's not your fault, all humans have an innate fear of the unknown.'

'All humans,' Arthur muttered back, noting how the collective term had not been applied to include himself. 'So, I am…special?'

The corners of Hatter's eyes wrinkled and he reached up to affectionately cup Arthur's cheek. 'More than you will ever know. Now! Let us forget all about this nasty business, it'll sour our tea! And after all, why should lions concern themselves with the opinions of the sheep?'

Arthur pressed his lips into a small smile before he freed one his hands from Hatter's to select a lilac tea cup that was still steaming, swallowing hard around the thick lump in his throat.

'I suppose…Even so, even if I don't have many—or any—friends for that matter, I'll always have you, won't I Hatter?'

Hatter smiled at his charge, his companion, his everything, and raised up his own tea cup to chink them together.

'Always, Arthur.'

* * *

Arthur awoke to the sensation of hot water streaking down his cheeks, and fat line of blood wetting his upper lip. The air around him smelt oddly of flowers, and a strikingly bright blue butterfly fluttered over his reclined form.

In that moment, there were two things he knew with absolute certainty:

He was Bleeding,

And he had no control over it. Someone had stuck a brick between the metaphorical magnets; violently vibrating with all their might to close the gap; stem the Bleeding flow, but impossible to do so.

'What happened.' Arthur heard himself roughly croak, his eyes staring unseeingly at a fixed point on the ceiling above him.

Sat by his head, out of his line of sight, Hatter breathed in, but said nothing. He had seen what Arthur had.

'What happened to my friend? My Hatter.' Arthur sobbed the last part. A fresh wave of water spilled over the corners of his eyes to make the ceiling blur and wobble like jelly.

'The world changed us. We learnt how to lie, how to get what we wanted. We grew up.' Hatter lowly replied.

Arthur weakly shook his head, not able to do much else. 'You  _defiled_ Wonderland. You locked me when I needed it.' He rasped, the cavern in his chest numbed any reflexive flinches when there was an ear scratching squeal of metal against tile and Hatter's hand slammed inches from his head.

Sharp, hot pants splayed over Arthur's face as it's mirror image leant into his narrow line of sight.

'All I have ever wanted,' Hatter hissed, each word tight with constrained temperament, barely holding together. 'is for you to come back to Wonderland. Come back to  _me._ I waited for your return, even as Wonderland froze over and fell apart. Even as the woods, and the flowers, and the meadow died and rotten, I waited.

I tried to keep it all together for you. I tried to visit and take care of everyone everyday. Rabbit, Walrus, I tried—I did—but they were so lost without you. All their life, everything that made them them, was gone…'

Arthur gulped. 'Y-you were the reason—'

'I never shut you out, Arthur. You chose that. You did that. I waited for you to come back _._ I needed you, and you left me all alone.'

'I never wanted that!' Arthur blurted out, rationality gone, his mind too much muddled to comprehend properly what he was saying.

'I never wanted to leave Wonderland forever. Wonderland— was precious to me. It was mine, and I loved it, and  _god_ , I  _miss it._ I miss the meadow. I miss the bubbling crooks and it's forget-me-nots. I miss Rabbit and Hare and Absolem,'

Arthur's swimming irises locked with electric blue; searching for something, someone in them.

'I miss my Hatter. The Hatter that ate all my scones, no matter how badly I burnt them. The Hatter that laughed and hoisted the most glorious tea parties that all of Wonderland were dying to be invited. The Hatter who was my  _friend_.'

The Brit blinked in shock when two droplets splashed against his forehead. Over him, Hatter smiled a quivering smile, soundlessly crying as he took Arthur's temples between his hands and pressed their foreheads together in a intimate gesture.

'You cannot,' He hiccuped, 'possibly imagine how happy it makes me to hear you say that, love. Truly it—it has cleared away all my horrid doubts.'

What.

Hatter's pleased hum alerted Arthur that he had actually whispered the word aloud.

'You never wanted to leave me, you said it yourself. It confirms what I suspected all along. It was never your fault that we were split apart. It was  _their's_.'

'Their's?' Arthur breathlessly choked, a coiled knot squirming in his stomach at the direction this madness was taking him in; his head simultaneously the lightest and heaviest thing in the room that spiralled around him.

'Them. Your mother. Your father, your brothers. Anyone, Arthur, that would stand between us. They are the ones keeping you from being with me and Wonderland, the way you truly want to be.'

Arthur sluggishly realised he was shaking his head again from side to side again, his lips uselessly mouthing silent words as Hatter ducked backwards, and reappeared with a second filled syringe; cooing and hushing the string of incoherent whimpers that rose up from the Brit in desperate protest.

'Shhh~ You've done beautifully. Now, just relax for this next part. You'll need your strength.'

He fought to keep his eyes open. He truly did. But the fog was just so heavy, and it swallowed him up so easily.

* * *

No less than four metres away outside the metal door separating them, Alfred F. Jones curled his hands into fists and sucked in a quick succession of shallow breaths.

He could do this. He  _had_  to do this. Big scary dimensional demon? No problem. Arthur had theorised that nothing Lucid could hurt him, now it was time to put that theory to the test.

Alfred double checked that the corridor behind him was cleared before he warmed his hands together and rammed them against the door. The steel moulded like wet clay beneath his herculean grip as he twisted and ripped the door off it's hinges, the metal shrieking as it was shredded.

The rush of perfumed, flowery air that hit him made Alfred stutter when he stepped across the threshold into the room; now very much different from the last time he had seen it. The four by four square room was, unbelievably, covered in greenery as though someone had replaced the floor with a garden patch; with long green grass, and colourful wildflowers like daffodils sprouting up between the white tiles. Fluorescent fungi mushrooms and butterflies clung to the walls, with Alfred's abrupt disturbance scattering the flock into a panicked flight.

Amidst the centre, like Snow White laid asleep in her glass coffin, Arthur lay back bound in his confiding straitjacket, strapped down to the operating chair, looking disturbingly pale with a equally nauseously amount of blood bleeding from his nose.

Alfred's vision tinted red at the sight of the demon that wore Arthur's face—the one that Arthur had said haunted his nightmares—hovering above him like a fucking leech. Said face had snapped up to him the moment he had taken the door off.

'What the fuck?' It hissed, unnaturally coloured irises wide before they narrowed with poison. 'Alfred.'

'That's right, you sick motherfucker. Here to kick your ass back into the next dimension.' Alfred growled with a crack of his knuckles, running the numbers at how much force he could put into a punch without popping the fool's head like a watermelon (If It really was possessing someone like Arthur had said, then Alfred didn't want to cause too much damage if the someone could come back from being a vessel).

'You shouldn't of been able to touch that door. I spelled it,' Hatter muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Alfred as he stepped away from the unconscious Arthur.

'Super-strength…Immune to Lucid effects— _Oh_ ,' Alfred's gut churned at the audible eureka moment and the wicked grin that curled onto Hatter's face.

'Oh, oh Columbia, you  _bad_  boy.'

'I'm a fair guy, so I'll warn you once. Let Arthur go now.'

'You're going to break his heart, you know that?' Hatter giggled, before he sprang without warning, fingers lengthening and sharpening into mirror shards to slice him open.

With instincts faster than he thought himself to possess, Alfred sidestepped the lunge and retaliated with a backhand. Hate crunched against the wall—the force enough to dent the plaster and crack bones— and crumpled to the floor, still smiling that awful smile, even as Alfred dashed over to Arthur to release him and hoist him into his arms.

'You're going to break his heart~ You're going to break his heart~,' Alfred gritted his teeth as he forced himself to ignore the giddy chant, fixed his eye at the end of the corridor, and march for it.

'Alfie~ Oh Alfie, do enjoy this while it lasts. He will hate you after it, I promise~'

'Don't listen. Just move. I got you Arthur, can— can you hear me?' Alfred panted as he walked as fast as he could without breaking into a jog through the recreational room; getting a quick glimpse the nurse from before frowning at him in confusion before he was gone.

Arthur's only response was to continue breathing deeply, his head lax and lolling against Alfred's shoulder, smearing blood onto the stolen scrubs.

'Okay. Keep up the good work.' Alfred halfheartedly quipped and pushed open the double doors with his foot.

Thankfully—and admittedly rather disturbingly considering the building was housing some seriously ill individuals— no one stopped Alfred until he reached the final hurtle on his escape route that was the front desk in reception.

'Hold it Marge! Where do you think you're going with that patient?' The receptionist with bird-like features demanded, causing Alfred to skid to a stop just short of the sliding doors where freedom awaited beyond.

'He's, uh—not a patient. He's a visitor, on a visit. Fainted so I thought I'd take him outside to get some fresh air.' Alfred lied, grimacing at how unconvincing he sounded even to his own ears. Man! He freaking hated improv!

'He's wearing a straitjacket.' The receptionist deadpanned back with a glare, and Alfred's heart dropped into his stomach when she moved to press the big red 'LOCKDOWN' button.

No!

'Wait—!'

'Security breach! An unlicensed black armoured jeep has just broken through the barrier. Direct inbound for the main entrance!' A static male voice crackled over the receptionist's answering machine, and Alfred knew: their ride had arrived.

'Gotta go, sorry!' He cried over his shoulder as he pelted it for the doors, stumbling out into the small courtyard just as the trespassing vehicle swung up along side it on the road. The back door was flung open by a dishevelled Dylan with wild eyes.

'GET IN!' He shouted and Alfred dived in head first, twisting his body mid-flight so that he wouldn't crush Arthur on the landing. In the driver's seat—Allistor shotgun—, Seamus floored the ignition and the engine growled as it's tyres screeched to tear back down the way it had came, never stopping, never slowing down until it pulled safely into the Kirkland's building garage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo boy. Bet you didn't see that coming ;)
> 
> So I actually juggled with a other ideas about how I would have Arthur react to Hatter appearing; in the early stages I had a big action scene planned with Arthur using some of his most powerful magic to battle Hatter. Obviously, this evolved into what you're just read, and opened up to some nice character moments.
> 
> Talking of character moments: Arthur and Hatter. Hatter's character was greatly flushed out in this chapter, and their scenes together were my favourite because we learn that things aren't as clean cut as we originally thought.
> 
> Alfred continues to shine, being a little smarty pants to create a plan and using his super-strength. His immunity to Lucid effects was also confirmed, and for those who were wondering; no, being immune is not normal. Very not normal ;)
> 
> Now, I have been tickling and teasing the big team-up chapter, and I am delighted to say that I will be delivering next chapter! :D We've got new characters, returning old ones and some twists that will you'll never see coming!


	21. Arthur: Madness Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 21! And, well, I honestly don't know what I can say to prepare you. The preview I posted on Tumblr (Lollipoplou) wasn't even half a glimpse into this chapter...
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy- well, I suppose I should say- 'enjoy' the next chapter...

Spades District, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirkland Residence.

'He's downstairs in Reina's room. Shaken up but otherwise unhurt,' Allistor said leant up against the doorway, arms crossed as he watched Arthur stiffly pull on his shirt in front of his mirror. 'We'll tell him a cover story while you're out, though I'm not sure he'll believe it.'

The bedroom was dark, the soft pulsing lights of the vibrant city outside not enough to illuminate Arthur's face as he gave a single nod. His face was concrete mask as he stared at his reflection button up the crisp shirt; his hands shook and fumbled with the small buttons.

'Oi, are you sure you're alright lad?' Allistor asked, brows furrowed.

'I'm fine.'

'Maybe you should think this over Artie. You're not exactly in the best frame of mind, and in my opinion you shouldn't even be up—'

'I said I'm fine Allistor, so kindly get off my balls and piss off.' Arthur snapped and didn't turn to watch his brother leave. Instead, he stared at his hands that wouldn't stop trembling before he ran them down his face; the swollen migraine that 'X' had induced was fading with a speed of a dripping tap.

_Fuck._

He spun on his heel and stomped into his en-suite over to the sink, snatching the shaving cream off the shelf to begin lathering his jaw. Next came his razor. Arthur picked it up and gripped it tightly, but his hand would not still as he raised it closer and closer to his face. He used to his other hand to try to steady the wrist, but it was too much.

Arthur threw his razor into the basin with a torn screech and gripped it's the smooth rim when he bent forward; head hung, violent tremors rattling his shoulders.

Fuck…

The bathroom door clicked as it opened and closed behind him, and Arthur sniffed and hurriedly tried to wipe his bloodshot eyes with the back of his hand.

Columbia, already dressed in one of Allistor's Italian dark three pieces, silently closed the distance to his side, and reached for the razor. A warm hand on his shoulder, the American slowly turned Arthur and tilted his face to him. Behind his goggles, his gaze were sad, and knowing.

'Let me.' He offered softly and Arthur managed a shallow nod, forcing himself to regulate his breaths and tightening his grip on the basin to support his legs that felt boneless.

Columbia shaved his late-afternoon stubble in long, smooth stripes; applying neither too much or not enough pressure; just right, in more ways than one.

'Thank you.' Arthur croaked through a closed throat, unable to match the other's laser-focused stare. The corner of his mouth invisibly quirked. Funny, how loaded those two small words had become.

'I'll always be right there with you, you know that,' Columbia answered, no trace of insincerity in his voice as he lifted the razor away from Arthur and washed it under the tap; the foamy lather lazily swirling down the drain with the trickle of water. 'Your brothers are only worried about you. It's not that hard to understand why.'

Arthur said nothing. He felt like a porcelain vase; overly fragile and brittle. The slightest touch enough to shatter him.

'Arthur? Alfred, Hatter, all of this. It's not your fault.' Columbia reassured, as though reading his thoughts.

'Isn't it?' Arthur doubted, his chest hollowed with the same gnawing emptiness he had felt back in the padded room with Hatter. He was numb all over; as though he wasn't in his body anymore.

Columbia exchanged the razor for a towel and wiped away the leftover lather, leaving Arthur's cheeks, neck and jaw baby soft before he took them between his hands and made Arthur meet his eyes; deep blue, as boundless as the sky, pierced him right to his very core.

'No. It's not. That's something I'll stand by until the end.'

The lump in Arthur's throat inflated twice it's size and his lip began to quiver uncontrollably.

'He had Alfred Columbia. He t _ouched_  him,' Arthur choked around a sob and the dam broke, and he shook; his heart caving in on itself as fat tears streamed down his red cheeks. 'A-and-and- I couldn't stop him. I-I couldn't  _d-do_ anything.'

Arthur's entire frame convulsed and fell as he spluttered and howled; heavy, ugly jagged gasps for air that made his lungs rattle in their ribcage as he broke down.

Encompassing arms pulled him into their warmth and held him strong. Columbia held him as Arthur clung to him like a wailing child, saying nothing about the growing wet patch on his shoulder.

Columbia held him until the shuddering stopped and there were no more tears to be shred, only pulling away when Arthur inhaled a deep cleansing breath through his nose and tapped him to let him up.

'I'm alright now.' Arthur whispered, repeating it when Columbia asked him if he was sure. 'I'm alright now.'

The Brit cleared his throat as he pulled away and made for his bed where his tailcoat lay ready. He wiped away the lingering wetness on his face before he pulled on the formal garment.

'I can go alone if you need me to.' Columbia volunteered quietly, but Arthur shook his head, fixing his cufflinks and smoothing out the creases in his suit.

'I have to go. It's never been more important now that we know Hatter is involved with Wang.'

Columbia nodded and motioned to the door to indicate to go when Arthur held up a finger.

'One more thing.' He said and whilst Bleeding, snapped his fingers to conjure two feathered half masks; a snowy owl and a golden eagle. He held the latter out to the American—who turned away to swap it for his goggles— and donned his own.

Set and dressed, the two regarded the other's appearance appreciatively.

Columbia's perfect teeth flashed as he beamed. 'Man. We look freaking badass! Like, you could be James Bond and I could be Jason Bourne!'

'More like Austin Powers.' Arthur said with a roll of his eyes as they made for the door together. The American was undeterred as he held open the door for Arthur to go through first like a gentleman.

'Okay then, Ethan Hunt.' He bounced back with full enthusiasm and Arthur scoffed at the comparison.

'Not bloody likely!'

'John Wick! I'm totally John Wick!'

And at that, Arthur doubled over splitting his sides, his hysterical laughter only easing up to snickering long after they had left the apartment.

* * *

Diamonds District, The Yellow Diamond Theatre, The Ballroom

'Stop fidgeting.'

'Fidgeting? Whose fidgeting. Not me.'

'You've been wiping your hands on your trousers since we got in.'

'I get sweaty when I get nervous, okay?'

'I can see that, just like everyone else when they see you. Just—please at least attempt to keep it under control. Gaul is, unfortunately, rather observant and we don't want to give away anything he could use to exploit.'

'Right. Right. Gotcha.'

Britannia sighed as the lift doors  _dinged!_  open onto a walkaway that looked down onto the jewel of the Yellow Diamond theatre: The Ballroom.

The Ballroom might as well have been carved from the world's largest gold ingot; everything in the lofty hall some slight variation of the wealthy colour. Gold were the dual curved grand staircases that led down to the rose-gold dance floor, and white gold was the colossal glittering chandelier that was reflected in it. Low cut dresses and prim suits swayed and mingled lavishly, plucking up champagne glasses provided by waiting staff and engaging in shallow chitchat. Tchaikovsky's 'Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy' was being concluded by the small orchestra on the bandstand at the end of the hall.

Over by the catwalk's railing, Britannia scanned the crowd for the party's host and tapped Columbia—whose mouth was agape with awe that his surroundings— on the shoulder.

'I see him. Dancing with the woman with the bird's mess on her head.' He pointed out and felt the American on his heels as he began to stride for the stairs.

Down on the floor, Britannia ignored the curious stares of the other guests and kept Gaul locked in his sights. He pushed his way to the edge of the ring and waited until the dancers had completed the finishing bars of their dance and separated before he crossed into no man's land and beelined for the information broker.

A skilled businessman of secrecy and notorious philanderer, Gaul wielded his craft's instruments: his devilishly handsome looks and silver-tongue, with proficient mastery. He stood tall with refined posture and presence, holding a natural gravitating confidence about him that was made everyone within range swoon.

The man wore a stylish suit that hugged his moderately muscular form, and a colourful peacock mask framed by his loose, blond curls. Dark indigo eyes turned to Britannia as he drew near, and a coaxed smile curled his lips; his female companion quickly forgotten.

'Britannia,' He purred, already capturing Britannia's hand to press a chaste kiss against his knuckles before the other had even opened his mouth. 'It is an absolute  _pleasure_  to see you once again.'

'Hello Gaul. How was France?' Britannia replied with tight politeness, taking back his hand.

Gaul sighed and not so subtly eyed him up and down, clearly approving of the trim fit of his suit. 'Terrible without you by my side, mon Cher. I wept in bed every morning.'

'What must the poor soul who shared it thought?' The Brit batted back with a smirk and the frenchman lowly chuckled as he further narrowed the distance between them.

'Well, let us say just say that I wasn't the only one weeping from a broken heart.'

Britannia rolled his eyes at the melodrama and was brought back to focus by the sight of Columbia hovering at the edge of the ring, his brows furrowed with an irked and impatient line.

'Gaul, we really must—'

'Ah, Pas de Deux. One of my favourites. May I?' Gaul cut off just as the piece's flowing opening notes began and extended his arm in invitation. Britannia glanced around and saw that indeed, the dancers had paired up to begin.

Curse the inescapable rules of etiquette!

Trapped in a hard place, Britannia shot Columbia a apologetic look as he took Gaul's arm and allowed him to be manoeuvred into position; resting his hand on the taller man's shoulder whilst his other hand was taken in his. Gaul smiled like the cat who had robbed the milkman blind, and took the lead, footwork and rhythm perfect as they glided across the floor.

Britannia was embarrassingly out of practice with his waltz, and he scowled in concentration, working hard to recall the movements as to not rely so heavily on Gaul's lead. It was his own downfall, however, when Gaul leant in closer to whisper in his ear and made him jump.

'It truly has been too long since we came together like this. I have missed your company.'

Britannia gave a short bark of laughter as he shook his head. 'You said I was terrible company.'

'Moi? Non.'

'You said I was blunt and scowled too much.'

'Ah—yes, well. It would not kill you to smile, now would it?'

'Wanker.'

'You are so much more beautiful when you do.'

Britannia turn't his head aside when blood rushed to his cheeks. Damn him, and damn that slippery, smooth tongue of his.

'I wish you wouldn't act this way when I am trying to have a serious conversation with you.'

'You don't mean to tell me you aren't enjoying this?' Gaul returned with a devilish smirk, emphasising his suggestive point as he swung Britannia round.

'I assure you, the only reason I came here tonight is purely transactional.'

Gaul's chuckle was closer to a rumble like that of a laughing panther. 'Mon bel ange, you are as cold the mask you wear. The Snowy-owl, the angelic hunter of the night, is a perfect fit for you. Believed to be the totem of clairvoyance, and harbinger of death in some cultures.'

Britannia pressed his lips together and decided to play along; Gaul was clearly enjoying himself too much to himself to pull his business hat on. 'I wasn't aware you were such an vivd birdwatcher. The only connection I would be able to make between you and a peacock is that you are both flamboyant as anything.'

Gaul threw his head back to laugh. 'That, and we both have a love for the finer things in life.'

'I highly doubt that you are referring to their diet.'

'The company they keep, actually.' Gaul quirked a smirk, flicking his eyes down suggestively to Britannia's lips, when over his shoulder, he spied Columbia watching them with a hawk-like intensity.

'Who is the boy toy? My replacement?' He chuckled and Britannia squared his jaw.

'He is not a boy. His name is Columbia, and he has been working with me to find the missing neuroscientists that Yao Wang kidnapped. He is a good man.'

A fair brow rose beneath the emerald feathered mask. 'Mon dieu. I rarely hear such high praise from you. I am not sure it that is well placed, from what I have read he is hardly capable—'

'Columbia is far more capable than you realise. If my mask fits me, then he embodies every quality of his.'

The information broker turned his head and ran a scrutinising eye over the American. 'Every quality you say…I believe that eagles are known to be territorial. They guard what's theirs all-year round,'

Britannia did not dignify him with a response, instead choosing to narrow his eyes as Gaul continued.

'They also have a rather unconventional courtship, in which they clasp talons with their mate and free-fall to the ground, only breaking apart at the very last moment.'

'It's a test of trust. They place each other's lives in the other's hand.' Britannia stated with cool affinity.

'Everything or nothing. A reckless way to gamble.' Gaul scoffed.

'It is about devotion. Mortal danger exposes one's truest character,' Britannia slanted a sly smile. 'Means more than any flaunts of vanity ever could.'

Gaul cocked his head to the side. 'No matter how beautiful the performance?'

'No.' Britannia gritted through his teeth as Gaul's hand slid to support his lower back and dip him, arching his back in an elegant curve.

'You had a different opinion last autumn.'

'A lot of things were different last autumn.' Britannia muttered back as he was lifted back up, and a different light moved behind Gaul's eyes as he further narrowed the distance between them to an intimate proximity.

'You're changed.  _Someone_  has changed you,' He said it as a truth, almost wistfully. 'You've found someone to fly with…I—always thought you and I could do that.'

'There— are very few carnivore-omnivore pairings in the animal kingdom that are compatible.' Britannia pointed out and stiffened when Gaul tightened his grip.

'But imagine, mon amour, how beautiful the hybrid between the two would be. One of a kind.' Gaul hummed.

Britannia looked up at him and shifted so that he was not pressed up so tightly against the man.'It'd be a short existence. Hybrids never live long.'

'Not necessarily. There is the Eagle-owl, a species that mate for life. Tell me, is there an Eagle-owl in your life?'

Britannia's gaze flickered over to Columbia for a split second, making his stomach knot over itself. 'No. There is no Eagle-owl. I—I am not involved with anyone for that matter.'

Gaul tutted. 'Do not lie to me Britannia. You are already in free-fall.'

Britannia thickly swallowed, his tongue suddenly too thick, too dry in his mouth, as all thoughts ground to a halt.

He— he didn't know what to say.

His mouth fell open regardless, his brain scrambling to pull together some resemblance of defence, when Gaul bowed his head, and Britannia realised that the dance was over. Blinking as though awakening from a long trance, he distantly felt himself be led back over to where Columbia waited; the hero not-so-subtly glaring at the hand that had not strayed from his hip. The glint of glass caught his eye as a waiter breezed past, and Britannia hurriedly detangled himself out of Gaul's hold.

'Excuse me. I need a drink.' He croaked, and near sprinted after the fleeing waiter, leaving the two men alone.

* * *

There was an suspended moment of awkward silence between Gaul and Alfred long after they had watched Britannia disappear into the crowd of partygoers. Whilst Alfred had opted for staring everywhere else but at the man in front of him, Gaul had dropped his earlier charm in favour for a chilled glower.

'So. You are the one known as Columbia.'

Alfred blinked at him before he squared his shoulders back. 'Yeah? What about it?'

'Oh in particular. Just that I was expecting the man chosen by Britannia to have at his side would be just that. A  _man_.' Gaul jeered as he brushed off some imaginary lint on his shoulder, choosing to examine his cuticles instead of watch Alfred's face morph into outrage.

This—this motherfucker. First he ignores him for Britannia—despite them arriving together—and then he has the nerve to start beef with him?

'Excuse me?!'

'I imagine you like to label yourself as a hero, but I ask you, what have you actually done to deserve such a title? You have had no major counts of success. You have no real reputation in the eye of the public. So I ask again, can you truly call yourself a hero?'

Alfred's lips twisted into an ugly snarl and he stepped forward aggressively into Gaul's personal space. 'You got something to say, pal?'

'Clearly, intelligence is not your strong suit, so I will explain it to you in layman's terms. You are not worthy of Britannia. Columbia is a nameless, faceless nobody that has done nothing of consequence to earn the title of hero, and until that changes, you will always live in Britannia's shadow.' The frenchman promised, and sent Alfred stumbling back, wheeling; the frenchman may have well struck him.

He—he was right.

* * *

'Gaul!' Both heads snapped to the Brit having emerged from the veiling partiers, his jaw set whilst his dark emeralds darted between the two of them. 'Do not make me regret our agreement before it has even began.'

Britannia glared at Gaul as he stepped away from Columbia and bowed his head in apology. 'Quite right. Forgive me. When you wish to discuss the specifics of the information, when I will be in my office on the tenth floor. Until then, please enjoy the festivities.' He said before he turned tail, and headed for the staircase.

Britannia watched him go before he heavily sighed and tilted his head in recognition when the first bars of Comptine d'un autre été began to play. He turned to Columbia with an extended hand.

'Would you like to—'

'Exactly B, I'm think I'm gonna call it a night,' Columbia interrupted with a small shake of his head, his gaze uncharacteristically dull and downcast. 'You…you go get what we need. I'm gonna go.'

'Oh. Uh, well then I'll call Éires and—'

'Don't worry about it. I need some time to myself. Enjoy the rest of the night.' The American muttered before he mirrored Gaul and turned on his heel for the door, leaving Britannia to stare wordlessly after him.

* * *

Spades District, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirkland Residence

'Well, it came at a price but we have it,' Arthur announced as he strode into the dimly lit apartment, tossing the small, lilac memory stick over to Dylan sat on the sofa with his laptop balanced on his lap. Over in the kitchen, Allistor and Seamus looked up from slicing and dicing vegetables for the spitting wonk on the stove; the chicken breast pieces sizzling to fill the air with it's mouthwatering aroma.

Dylan reflexively caught it without looking away from his screen. 'Was it a steep one?'

'Depends on what you gauge as steep. Gaul only agreed to fork the data over once I had agreed to allow him to accompany Columbia and I on the mission. Speaking of which, where is Columbia?' Arthur asked with a sweeping scan of the room, unable to see the American who had been so downtrodden the last time he'd seen him. Had he gotten back alright?

A line formed between his thick brows at the uneasy looks his brothers exchanged. 'What?'

'Actually Arthur, Columbia and Matthew went home.' Seamus explained with a pinched expression, almost a wince.

'What!? This—This is our mission, and  _they went home?_.'

'In all fairness lad, Matty did say they had to discuss something important.' Allistor reasoned only to Arthur spin on him and gesture to the memory stick that Dylan was inserting into his USB port.

'More important than this?!' He near-screeched, his chest heaving for a number of beats, before evening out when he realised that he was being unfair; his brothers were as much in the dark as he was.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. 'Alright then, fine. We'll just have to comply all the information we have without him. Have all the invites gone out?'

'Gone out, and accepted.' Dylan piped up, and Arthur breathed out with relief before he looked to Seamus, who was sliding the prepped vegetables into the wonk; Allistor ready at the handle to toss it up.

'And the place?'

'All checks out okay. Ally and I will take the stuff over and set up it up tomorrow morning.' Seamus answered as he dusted his hands off and bent low into a marble topped cabinet to take out plates. When the Irishman went to take out a fourth, Arthur shook his head. He had already eaten at Gaul's, and had honestly been looking forward to his bed. Of course, that was completely backwards now that he knew Columbia would not be near to keep away the nightmares.

'Good. Right, is Alfred still with Reina then?' He said, dismissing his feathered mask with a wave of his hand

'He's not here, left with his brother,' Allistor announced and motioned to the staircase. 'Go to bed lad, you look dead on your feet.'

With nothing else left to say, Arthur gave a single nod and dragged his feet upstairs and into his bedroom; dreading the certain, long night of Hatter's terrors that awaited him.

* * *

Ar—

_Arth—_

**_Arthur!_ **

Arthur snapped awake, cold clammy sweat clinging to his skin, and thrashed against the arms that pinned him down. The room was blindingly bright, his vision spotty.

He couldn't see. He—they—hands wouldn't give.

'Arthur!' Someone shouted over the laughter, highly crazed laughter that was too loud.

Who—who was laughing? Arthur wished they'd stop. They sounded quite deranged. Mad, definitely mad.

'Arthur! Stop it! Arthur!' Another cried—Dylan cried.

Arthur blinked. That was Dylan, that was his face staring down at him.

He blinked again. Seamus, Allistor, his brothers stared down at him in his bed; all equally terrified.

The laughter wasn't coming from them, it was coming from Arthur's own mouth.

Arthur froze, and the manic laughter cut off abruptly; the room eerily silent, save for the erratic pants of the Brit.

Above him, his brothers exchanged looks before slowly releasing their vice grips on Arthur, who hadn't moved an inch.

'Arthur?,' Allistor's voice rumbled, his brow set heavy with concern. 'Are you—back with us?'

'How long?' Arthur heard himself rasp, now painfully aware of how raw and dry his throat was; the last remnants of his laughter echoing hauntingly in his ears. He had sounded completely unhinged. He had sounded like Hatter.

'A hour. You were—like this for an hour.' Seamus shuddered, Arthur only now noticing how pale his face was, how shaken.

Arthur, wrinkling his nose up in disgust, pealed his sweat soaked covers off and shoved Allistor out of the way when a wave of swaying nausea rolled over him. He had just bolted into bathroom and fallen to his knees above the toilet before he'd began to dry heave into it. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as his stomach painfully clenched and unclenched on nothing but acid and bile. When the convulsions stopped, Arthur choked a final time before shakily wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

A glass of water appeared in his peripheral—Dylan just outside it—and Arthur accepted it gratefully, greedily gulping it down to swill down the burning sensation in the back of his throat. From over by the door, Seamus and Allistor stared.

'Something's very wrong with you.' Seamus said, and Arthur glared at him as he set down the empty glass heavily on the sink counter.

'Newsflash dickhead, I've always been fucked up.' He growled back, throat still rough, and the Irishman bristled.

'What's fucked is your head.'

'Seamus!' Allistor snapped, but Seamus wasn't done.

'No! Fuck, I can't! I can't keep pretending to ignore this! It's every-fucking-night!'

'Seamus—'

'No, Dylan! This isn't normal. These aren't his normal nightmares, these are so much worse. He's getting worse.'

' _He_  is right here bitchtits.' Arthur spat, and Seamus stepped froward to square up and tower over him.

'You're sick in the head Arthur. Something up there isn't right, and it's driving you round the bend.'

'The fuck you know about what's happening with my head? None of you are lucid, none of you could possibly understand what it's like!'

'I don't have to be lucid to know a train wreck when I see one.' Seamus growled and Arthur snarled as he threw himself at his brother and socked him hard in the jaw. Seamus staggered wide, and his lips pulled back over his teeth as he prepared to lunge, only to have Allistor bar his path; Dylan mirroring the action facing Arthur.

'Stop it the both of you now!,' Allistor roared, glowering between the two until they slowly began to unwind from their coiled tension to simmer. 'For fuck's sake! What the hell are the other vigilantes going to think if they see that Britannia can't even work with his fucking team?'

'Team? Acadia and Columbia have pissed off, haven't even  _tried_  to contact us to tell us what's going on, and you want us to pretend that everything's fine and dandy?' Arthur hissed over Dylan's shoulder, and took an automatic step back when Allistor swirled around onto him.

'There's no "pretend" about it. We  _are_  fine, you know why? Because if Oz, or the Nordics, think for even a second that Britannia doesn't have his shite together, then the whole plan falls apart. We don't stop the launch event, 'X' gets to spread in Terra, hundreds of lives get ruined, and Wang has the kidnapped scientists continue to pump out drugs that will make him rich. We have worked too hard, suffered too much to get to this point—to get to this point and let it all fall apart now.'

Arthur forced himself to steady his breathing as his mother had taught him. His fists slowly, painfully uncurled. 'You're right. We can't afford to fight amongst ourselves.'

'Aye.' Was the resounding mutter of agreement before Seamus nodded to Allistor to follow him.

'Al, we had better get a start on the studio.'

Allistor returned the gesture and looked between Dylan and Arthur. 'Right. Dylan, finish off the presentation and complying that data. Arthur, go to the med room. Top left shelf, you'll see a orange pill box. Take two and then back to bed. I want at least eight hours from you before tonight.'

'Eight hours? From the acute insomniac? That's cute Allistor.' Arthur snorted with an eye roll, but Allistor was already out of the room, throwing a dismissive wave over his shoulder back to him.

'Eight hours. No moaning. Seamus, let's roll.'

* * *

Clubs District, Ivy Avenue, Studio Sage's abandoned Loft

'He's needs help.' Seamus stated as he set down the holo-projector at the centre of the large round table that sat central to the abandoned loft; a dusty, worn down place that it's artist had long evacuated in favour of a newer model; the red bricks walls were still lined by moth bitten old cloth covered canvases.

He and Allistor had done the minimal to outfit the place with tech that would be used to host the meeting; hologram projectors, keyboards, advanced processing hard drive, etc. It was good thing that he and Allistor weren't terrible engineers, because half the tech Dylan had supplied hadn't exactly come with a helpful Ikea manual.

Not looking up from the electrical panel he was rewiring, Allistor made a grunting noise in the back of his throat. 'You don't think I know that? Believe me, as soon as this is all done, I'm restarting his therapy.'

'Oh yeah, because it worked so well the first time.'

'I achieved a first with special honours on my military psychology course. I  _am_  qualified.'

'Doping him up on harder meds isn't going to fix anything Al. It's time to consider that are other ways that we can help.' Seamus pointed out.

It was then when Allistor stopped what he was doing to look at him. 'Seamus, I suggest you stop right there—'

'Can't you see that being his fucking doctor isn't cutting it anymore! Look what happened yesterday with Hatter. Arthur needs us there in the field backing him up. He needs Saxony.'

Allistor narrowed his eyes. 'You know why I can't do that.'

'Can't, or won't?'

'Why are you challenging me on this? Saxony can only be Britannia's coordinator, not a field operator. You know that, you know I promised her that.'

Seamus slammed his fist against the table's polished surface, it's thud echoing off the high rafted ceiling. 'Screw the promise! What good is it if Arthur's dead? Because that's what's going to happen if we don't do  _something_.'

Allistor's gaze turned pinched, and Seamus' stomach knotted over as his own fell to the floor.

'I—I'm not sorry. I'm done with sitting on the sidelines, and I know you are to.'

After a long moment of drawn out silence, Seamus breathed again when he saw Allistor give a slow nod and straighten up out of his crouch, dusting off his hands.

'I don't like it, but you're right. Arthur's not going to improve anytime soon, and if there's anything we can to lessen his burden, we have to do it.'

Seamus couldn't stop the smile that crept onto his face. 'So, Saxony?'

'Aye. Saxony.'

* * *

Spades District, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirklands' Residence.

'Bollocks!'

Dylan's head snapped up at follow-up thunder of footfall upstairs, listening to it stomp from overhead toward the stairs. There was the slam of a door being thrown wide and Dylan craned his head back from the sofa to watch Arthur hurl himself down the staircase whilst trying to simultaneously pull on the Britannia suit.

'Dylan! You were supposed to wake me up! The meeting is in an hour!' The Brit shrieked as he tore through the living room for the front door. Surrounded by his coordinator set up, live and ready to go, Dylan shrugged.

'I doubt I could of. Whatever you took knocked you out h-a-r-d. Besides, you desperately needed the hours.'

'Fuck you—Uh, argh! It's already dark out!'

'Allistor and Seamus went to get food by the way. They'll be back in ten—'

'There's no time! I'll open comms when I get there.' Arthur yelled back to him from the inside of the lift as just before it's doors slid shut to take him down.

Dylan sighed and looked at the blinking notification at the top of his screen from Acadia. Oh well, whatever Columbia had to tell Arthur, he'd just have to tell him in person.

* * *

Clubs District, Ivy Avenue, Studio Sage's abandoned loft.

The loft's pyramid shaped skylight wasn't too hard to find with the night vision that accompanied Britannia's snowy owl form. Gliding in to landing, he shifted back into his human form with a flash of white light, shredding off all his feathers mid-flight to dive into a tuck and roll; the gravel shifting beneath his boots as he skidded to a stop.

Flying was one of his favourite pastimes, but tonight he had sacrificed it's pleasure in favour for speed. The muscle strain his wings had suffered carried over into his shoulders, but it's ache couldn't of been further from his mind. All that mattered was that he'd made it in time.

Silently, Britannia cracked open the skylight's window—the loft's lighting didn't quite illuminate the whole room—and dropped down into the loft's rafter, prepared to drop again to the floor, when he heard voices below him; two distinct voices, both of which he knew, and one of which made his breath catch in his throat.

'Bloody hell! This place is a right ripper! Good onya Britannia.'

'Yeah. He's awesome.'

A pause…

Britannia daren't breathe.

'What's eatin' ya shelia? I thought you said you wanted this?'

'I do, I do—I just, don't know how I'm going to break it to him.'

'Steady on. You're not getting a divorce mate.'

'Yeah…I know.'

'Hey, win or lose, we're a team now, alright? Guardians! And trust me, Columbia— you are going to be an awesome leader.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, ah ha. Ha ha...
> 
> help.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you *wince* 'enjoyed' this chapter. If you have the time, please consider leaving a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading, and as always,
> 
> Until next time folks...


	22. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 22! And I'd like to thank everyone's kind reviews on the last chapter. Rest assured, I am perfectly fine (and returning to my second year of Uni this weekend!) and super hyped to deliver this chapter to you. It's big. It's really big.
> 
> Apologises for any grammar/spelling mistakes, let's just jump right in,
> 
> Enjoy!

Clubs District, Ivy Avenue, Studio Sage’s abandoned Loft

Arthur wasn’t sure how long he had perched there frozen in the dark on the rafters. Columbia’s words, the promises they had exchanged, ringing in his ears like reverberating church bells.

 _‘Together, or not at all.'_  

_‘I want to be with you! I’m freaking in love with you!’_

_‘I’ll always be right there with you, you know that._  

Arthur clamped his lips shut when a keening sob rose up inside of him. His chest felt as though it were tearing itself apart, his organs inside screaming to be free.

What poppycock. Poppycock that Arthur had been stupid enough to believe. 

_Why would he stay?_

_You can’t give him what he wants. You can’t fulfil him._

It stung worse than any blow or injury could. Because that was thing about betrayal: the worst part about it was that it never came from your enemies.

Arthur thickly swallowed around the lump in his throat when another sob threatened to break free. His hand slipped beneath his mask when he felt wetness prick at the corners of his eyes.

For god’s sake—

No. 

_No._

He was not doing this. He. Was. Not. 

He absolutely refused to cry. He was the Britannia Angel, and by god, he was an Englishman! From a nation notorious for keeping their hearts firmly concealed in their hearts, not flailing them on their sleeve. 

That was what he would do. Conceal, don’t feel. Stiff upper lip. 

He would pretend. He was a machine. He was above emotions, feelings, humanity. There was no pain, because he hadn’t a heart to hurt. 

He was the Britannia Angel.

Britannia was brought back into the loft when he heard a door shut, and leant over to see that Oz and Columbia had been joined by the vigilante team Nordic; compromising of their leader, King, their sharp shooter, Svea, and of course, Britannia’s old friend, North. Gaul smoothly glided in after them before the door shut, and Britannia did not miss the narrowed glare Columbia shot him as the company came together to exchange greetings.

‘Gaul.’ 

‘Columbia. Congratulations on your new position with the DIA. I am sure that Germania was most pleased that you finally accepted his invitation.’ Gaul returned airily, though the upward curl of his mouth was that of a sly fox; one who knew more than anyone in the room, was well aware of it, and wanted everyone else to be as well. 

Columbia gave a stiff nod. ‘He was.’ He answered as King—his and his team’s uniform fashioned after that of a northerner’s wardrobe, complete with a fur-lined hooded cloak— looked about the loft for a missing person. 

‘Yo, Columbia, where’s the Britannia Angel? Shouldn’t he be here?’

Britannia sighed and straightened out of his crouch, cramped muscles protesting as he stretched. 

Time to make an entrance.

* * *

 

Alfred jumped out of his skin alongside everyone else when Arthur—well, Britannia technically— appeared out of thin air with a thud, one leg straight with the one bent as though he’d just stuck an acrobatic landing. The whole room was silent with a tangible awe as Britannia rose out of the pose and began to walk toward them; moving with that practiced gracefulness that all great feline predators had.

Relief had been the first thing he’d felt upon seeing Britannia again, but the longer he looked at him, the more guilt and dread crept up and soured it. He hadn’t spoken, nor contacted him since Gaul’s last night, but worse than all that, Alfred had no idea how much he had heard about him joining the DIA’s Guardian Initiative. 

Alfred’s gut twisted, and he stepped forward, hand half-extended out, when Britannia breezed right past him and extended his own hand to King.

‘King. Thank you for coming.’

’S-sure. No problem,’ King stuttered, looking more than a little star-struck, before he pulled himself together, clearing of his throat and gestured to Svea on his left, and North on his right. ‘This is Svea, and I know you already know North.’

Britannia nodded and offered Svea the same exchange he had to King, giving the larger man’s hand a firm shake and a nod to North before he turned to Oz and did the same.

Alfred waited, his green eyed monster growling as he watched Britannia approach Gaul at the back and allow him to kiss his hand; the snarls increased in volume at the lasciviousness quality of the frenchman’s grin as he leered the man up and down.

Done with introductions, Britannia turned around, and Alfred held his breath as their eyes connected—imagining the emerald irises there behind the gas-mask’s lenses—only to be broken when the Briton fixed his sights on North. ‘A word, North?’

His dejection must of shown because Oz appeared at his elbow and leant in to whisper as they watched Britannia and North walk over to the window. ‘Bloody hell. What’d you do to him?’

‘Wait. I’m confused. Why’d Britannia just completely blank you? I thought you were working the case together.’ King asked with raised brows. Feeling depressed enough, Alfred just offered a small shrug. He didn’t have a good answer.

King opened his mouth to ask another question, his dark blond brows furrowed, when he stopped and pressed his finger to his earpiece to listen. He nodded to the invisible voice and waved to Svea and then Alfred and Oz. ‘Excuse us fellas. Got the missus on the line.’ He grinned, crackling at the outraged response he got on the other end of the comm as he and Svea moved away to leave Alfred and Oz alone. 

Seeing the opportunity, Alfred tapped Oz’s arm and motioned for him to come closer as to speak in a lower tone. ‘Hey, do we have anymore news about the White Woman? Reported sightings, anything?’ He muttered and chewed on his lower lip when Oz shook his head.

‘Sorry mate, DIA’s had nothing for days. She hasn’t cropped up in any nearby cities or states, meaning she’s still laying low in Terra. Got Germania eating his shorts over it,’ The Ozzy answered at a matching secretive volume and gave Alfred a reassuring nudge when he drooped. ‘Don’t worry, with all of us keeping an eye out, we’ll find her.’

Yeah, Alfred thought to himself as he continued to worry gnaw on his lip. Hopefully they found her before she could find Britannia.

* * *

 

‘Britannia?’ North asked once they’d stepped out of earshot, and Britannia crossed his arms as he turned to look out of the window into the street below.

‘Were you aware that Columbia has joined the DIA? He’s joined this ‘Guardian Initiative’ that is a put together group of—’ He cut himself off when he saw the apologetic look on his friends face. ‘You’ve already joined to, haven’t you?’

‘Yes. At first I was against it.’

‘So why did you agree?’

North tilted his head, and Britannia followed his lingering gaze over to where the Dane laughed explosively with the Swede; an undisguised longing there. ‘He’s tries hard. He tries so hard to get the best for us, and to him the Guardians Initiative can provide that.’

A line formed between Britannia’s brows. ‘I see. I suppose Columbia must of felt similarly.’

‘Columbia is not going to ignore you Britannia, just because he’s become a Guardian.’ North softly reassured, reading Britannia with embarrassing transparency.

The Brit’s shoulders slumped. ‘I just don’t understand. He said that he wanted to be—he wanted he and I to be partners. And now…’

North’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, and squeezed. ‘Britannia, whatever they are, Columbia will have his reasons. It’s rests on you to be patience until he tells you them.’

Britannia nodded his head gratefully. It felt good to heard someone say it out loud. ‘Thank you, North.’ He smiled before North gave him a warm nod and moved away, back over to King and Svea who had rejoined with Oz and Columbia.

Britannia leant as one of the loft’s stone column’s and watched them smile at North as he returned to his Guardian teammates, a mile away when Gaul appeared at his side. They did not say anything for a long moment, comfortable to stand in an honest silence as they watched; outsiders looking in.

‘Do you ever feel lonely?’ Gaul asked, leaning in close to speak low enough for only Britannia to hear him. 

The only acknowledgment Britannia gave him that he had heard him was a slight shift of his weight, his eyes not moving from Columbia’s smile. ‘Do you?’

‘Most days,’ Gaul confessed with a thoughtful hum, ‘though I have enjoyed the company of recent.’

‘Perhaps it could become of a permanent nature.’ Britannia suggested with a raised brow that immediately furrowed when the frenchman captured his chin with a finger to tilt it up.

‘Like the old days?’ 

He was freed with a slap of a wrist. ‘Why do you always have to complicate things?’

Gaul backed off, startled before he regained control of his composure. ‘Sex is sex, mon amour.  Nothing complicated about it.’

'Things are never “just” anything with you. There’s always something behind another, always smoke and mirror. Just like whatever you have planned when we confront Wang at Spades.’

‘Do you trust me Britannia?’

Britannia pressed his lips together as he regarded the man. ‘I trust you to act a certain way. That is, in your singular best interests.’

‘Is that not the same thing?’ Gaul grinned and Britannia shuffled to increase the distance between them.

‘I like said before, smoke and mirrors.’ He huffed and was followed up by a pregnant pause.

‘I suppose, the occasional drink would be doable. I know of an excellent bar in Diamonds,’ Gaul proposed, his voice possessing that rare string of honesty that Britannia had so rarely heard in their time together; all pretences dropped.

‘Just a drink?’ Britannia asked, and Gaul gave the slightest shrug of his shoulders.

‘Perhaps it could be our good thing.’

For the first time that evening, Britannia felt himself smile a genuine smile. ‘I’d like that.’

In that time, everyone had slowly drifted over to the large round table that Allistor and Seamus had spent the morning outfitting for the meeting. Each chair was a name card and laptop primed and ready to be used, and it was as Britannia walked over to the table, that he realised with grim anticipation that he was seated between Gaul and Columbia. 

Columbia was the only one already sat in his chair, and he looked up then Britannia took to his own with his back perfectly straight. The American coughed with apparent awkwardness and inched his chair closer.

‘Are you—how are you doing?’

‘I am fine.’ Britannia replied cooly, fingers brushing over his keyboard to login as the host of the private chat room Dylan had coded for the occasion. 

‘You’re lying. C’mon, B, please talk to me.’ Columbia pleaded, and Britannia wanted to scream at the irony. 

‘You are _unbelievable,_ ’ He bitterly laughed and Columbia’s face twisted.

‘Look B, please I—I know—’ 

‘Don’t bother Columbia. I’m sick of your lies.’

‘I’ve never lied to you—’

‘Wrong! You said! You said that you cared about me.’

‘I do!’

‘THEN WHERE WERE YOU?!’ Britannia shrieked before he could stop himself, the choked words bursting free from the most broken part of him. He hated it. He hated how desperate, how weak he was; how endlessly undone Columbia could make him.

Columbia was slack-jawed as the other vigilantes filtered in, each claiming their assigned seats. At that point, Britannia didn’t care if they had heard his outburst or not. He had allowed Columbia to get under his skin for the last time that night. Now, all there was was this meeting and the mission.

Britannia stood up and loudly clearly his throat to attract the attention of the room, clearly signifying that this was the official start of the meeting. 

‘I would first like to once again thank everyone for taking the time to come this evening, and I would like to open this meeting by formally introducing myself and my co-ordinating team,’ Britannia said, thankfully steady, as he pushed the enter key in front of him and the holo-projector positioned behind his chair lit up as he opened the chatroom; the hologram displaying three icons; a Celtic Knot, a four-leafed clover and a red dragon, to display that Allistor, Seamus and Dylan respectively had digitally joined the meeting. 

‘I am the Britannia Angel, with Saxony as my coordinator, Éire my support field operator, and Cymru, my tech expert.’

‘Hello.’

‘Hey.’ 

‘Evening.’ Britannia’s brothers greeted, their icons lighting up as they did so. Britannia sat back down, and after a brief questionable pause of ‘whose next?’, Columbia pushed his seat back to stand. 

‘Hey, uh— how’s it going? I’m Columbia, and Acadia is my co-ordinator.’ He said before tapping the enter key as Britannia had and added Matthew—his icon a red maple leaf—to the mix. Oz followed to introduce himself and his coordinator Shepherd, flashing up as a ram. 

King was next, and his beam was dazzling as he motioned to his team. ‘Check it, I’m King slick-ass leader number uno. We got North our “cool”—pun intended—Lucid powered guy, Svea our gun guy, and ‘Ice’ and ‘Suomi’ as our coordinators. Gotta say, we’re all super pumped to be working with you all like this!’

Britannia suppressed a small smirk at the eye roll North sent his way before he turned right to look alongside everyone at Gaul, whom of course, was the one the majority of the room were least acquainted with. 

Gaul rose to his feet and waved his hand with a flourish, the same way one would expect a member of royalty to. ‘Greetings. I am Gaul, and while I may not guard these city streets, I am here to do the same as you: answer the noble call of heroism!’

‘A-anyway,’ Britannia asserted and pressed his spacebar with his index and middle finger to activate the holo-projector at the centre of the table. The first hologram slide of Dylan’s presentation was a profile line up of the currently missing neuroscientists. 

‘As I am sure you are already aware, over the past few weeks, there was been a string of disappearances in the scientific community. The neuroscientists you see before you have been declared missing by officials, but through Columbia’s and my own investigation we have learnt different. This is not a case of disappearances, but rather, kidnappings commissioned by crime lord Yao Wang via a contracted agent known by ‘The White Woman’.’

‘Queen. The White Queen.’ Shepherd cut in

Britannia scowled beneath his mask. ’You know of her?’

‘The DIA has been tracking her movements over the past two years as a person with suspected ties to a grand house in the Underworld.’ Oz clarified, and Britannia’s gut clenched. Of-fucking-course. If the DIA had been following her, then wouldn’t Columbia also be aware of this to? Implying that Columbia had kept _more_ information from him?

Rather than punch the table like he wanted to, Britannia suppressed his rage into turning stiffly to stare at Columbia. ‘That would of be been nice information to know.’ He gritted tightly through his teeth.

The American had the decency to squirm, and Britannia let him for another uncomfortable second before he hit the spacebar again to move on; the profiles of the missing scientists’ fading away to be replaced by the screenshots of Edelstein’s findings on the ‘X’ experiments and the rough portrait sketch of ‘the White Queen’ that Britannia himself had drawn the night that the cruise ship had been hijacked.

‘Wang has had the White Queen kidnap the neuroscientists, with Doctor Roderick Edelstein being the latest of her victims to produce a new line of narcotic dubbed ‘X’. Before his abduction, Edelstein had in fact been in the experimenting phrase of ‘X’’s development under the employment of the criminal organisation The Winter Syndicate, led by General Winter. 

Through our investigations, Columbia and I learnt that Wang’s yakuza and the Winter Syndicate have clashed over ‘X’ before, with Wang’s men stealing early prototypes of the narcotic, only to be returned through extensive negotiations between the two organisations.’

‘Jesus christ,’ Ice gasped over the comm line as he read the results of the ‘X’ experimentations, Britannia grimacing at how young he sounded. With the Nordics, Britannia saw King grip North’s hand tightly, the Norwegian’s face deathly pale as he read about the awful effects on Lucid participants. ‘This is sick.’

‘Barbaric.’ Gaul agreed into his hands with his elbows propped on the table. 

‘Wang only agreed to return the samples he stole through a signing of a non-aggression pact, months before he had the White Queen begin kidnapping the scientists,’ Columbia spoke up, his jaw set square. ‘We figured that whatever got him to break the pact by kidnapping the Syndicate’s lead scientist must be big.

Britannia and I sneaked into one of Wang’s properties, The Jasmine Dragon in Hearts, and discovered that he’s been stockpiling crates and crates of ‘X’, planning to ship it all out to his chain of nightclubs ‘Cardverse’ for a launch event to distribute it onto the drug market.’

‘This ‘X’ cannot go live in Terra.’ Svea stated, glasses catching the light just so to wash out the eyes behind them.

Columbia took a deep breath, and pushed his chair back to stand up beside Britannia, hands curled into tight fists. ‘That’s right, and that’s exactly why we’ve asked you to come here. We need your help to stop this, stop ‘X’ from getting onto Terra’s streets and fucking up hundreds of people’s lives. Please, help us.’

Britannia held his breath as he glanced between the vigilantes as they privately conversed with their respective teams, releasing it with a gasp when Oz stood up and nodded with a smile.

‘Shepherd and I are with ya.’ He grinned before he was proceeded by King to confirming that the Nordics would also help. Britannia nodded gratefully and Gaul smiled at him with silent ‘do you even have to ask?’. 

In the corner of his eye, Britannia saw Columbia staring at him, offering a hesitate smile. They had done it. They had rallied everyone to a cause, and now they had a chance at stopping Wang’s plan and rescuing the missing scientists. They’d done it.

Britannia stared back, the lingering fuzziness that had clung to his thoughts were since he had had ‘X’ forced upon him thinning out for a slice of time, allowing him a chance to breathe, think clearly, before it was snatched away by the skylight above exploding.

Instantaneously, everyone was up on their feet, skirting back as a shower of glass rained down from the heavens. Seven sets of feet hit the round table’s surface hard, crunching the shards of fallen glass beneath their bare feet. 

The intruders were unlike anyone Britannia had ever seen. They were as pale as corpses, white and blue and black, with clawed nails and glowing red that looked as though they had been ripped straight out of Bram Strokes ‘Dracula’. It was when the one nearest to him pulled it’s blackened lips back to flash it’s elongated canines that Britannia knew he had struck home.  

Vampires. Honest-to-god, vampires.

‘Well, Gaul. I would say I’m impressed. This line up is much more impressive than your last security detail.’ A heavy Romanian accent chuckled, Britannia narrowing his eyes when the speaker stepped out from the middle of the group to the front. Like North, he knew that the man they faced was Lucid, and more than likely the vampire ringleader, his crimson eyes strikingly brighter than his lackeys’ as they latched onto Gaul. 

‘What is this?’ Britannia demanded, and the lead vampire’s eyes went wide when they shifted onto him. 

‘Well, well, I certainly was not expecting to encounter the Britannia Angel tonight. However, I have no qualms with you, exalted one. I merely wish to speak with our mutual information broker here.’

‘I have already given you my answer Vladimir. I have no intention of assisting in your search.’ Gaul proclaimed, and there was a gasp from the Nordics’ side of the table. 

‘You’re looking for the identity of the Angel.’ North revealed, making Britannia’s head snap back to the vampire with alarm. This man—Vladimir, was searching for him, and intended to use Gaul to do so. 

‘I am disappointed you are not willing to cooperate Gaul. I was reluctant to bring violence into this if you would not comply, but if there is no other way—’

‘Over my dead body.’ Britannia argued, muscles tensing to spring, when Vladimir smiled and something akin to a small car slammed into him. 

Britannia could hear the cries of the other vigilantes as his back smacked the wooden flooring, and scrambled to get both heels between him and the snapping vampire, to continue their frenzied momentum and launch the monster off him. Head wheeling, Britannia staggered to his feet, swaying as he Bled and summoned Excalibur into his hand with a brilliant flash of golden light; the blade’s edge humming with appreciation of slaying the blasphemous undead creature.

‘It’s only fair to warn you,’ Britannia growled, aware his own lips were being pulled back in a dark gleeful grin as he gripped the sword’s handle in both hands and sank into his stance. God, he _wanted_ this. He _needed_ some bloody outlet. ‘I’ve had a _really bad day._ ’

 But the stupid creature sprang for his neck anyway. Britannia spun, a single slice to separate it’s neck from it’s shoulders, it’s stone body exploded into to grey powdered ash before it could so much as hit the floor.

There was a stunned silence as Britannia slowly turned back toward his audience and raised the shining blade level to the evil horde. ‘So whose next then?’

* * *

 

Afterward, Britannia’s mind would only be able to remember a few details of the ensuing chaos when both parties throw themselves at each other; Svea, King and Gaul, all weaponless, being herded to the back; North summoning wave after wave of ice to ward back the vampires, and Oz doing his best to assist; Columbia, shoving and grappling his way through the wicked horde to try to reach him. 

And well, as for himself; Britannia had flipped his brain onto auto-pilot; entering a hyper focused trance in which he did not think or feel, only move. His movements were fluid, lost in the tempo, as he weaved and dodged and danced around the vampires. The vampires were fast, but the constant sway and banish of Excalibur prevented them from closing the distance; a lesson that two vampires—now ashen piles at Britannia’s feet—had learnt when they had tried to rush him.

‘Don’t move or I tear out his throat!’ Shrieked a vampire, snapping Britannia back into the room, and his spacial awareness kicked back in as his tunnel vision widened. About five metres and turned away from him, was Columbia, rigidly still with a black vampire digging his claws threateningly into his neck drawing thin lines of red. 

The whole room froze, and Britannia moved on instinct. Excalibur whistled through the air, and erupted through the black vampire’s chest. No blood, no noise—too shocked, the black vampire stared down at the sword sprouted out through his still heart before he withered to ash. 

However, the victory was short lived. Seeing that Britannia was now weaponless, Vladimir saw his chance.

Britannia was barely able to register the shift of all eyes locking onto him, before the whole room tilted and with a splintering smash of floors wooden boards, he was tumbling in free-fall. 

Sharp claws sunk into his side to draw a slitting scream as they fell, and it was all Britannia could to twist his free body from under Vladimir’s cold one, his side burning as he kicked the monster spinning away and collided hard with the concrete floor. All air was forcibly expelled from his lungs upon the crunching impact, and all of Britannia’s attempts to draw it back in resulted in a pitiful high whine. 

The floor they had fallen into was like that of an abandoned firehouse, as airy and dusty as the loft above it though with no natural lighting, making the shadows vast and looming behind the column supports. Britannia wheezed when he forced himself to roll onto all-fours, the resulting fire that ripped up his side at the action pulling out a strangled cry; when he touched his hand to his side, the glove came away a dark red.

‘Mmm~ Is that your blood?’ Vladimir purred, his voice echoing off the walls to make it’s point of origin indistinguishable. 

Heart hitting as though it were a helicopter propeller, Britannia’s limbs shook as he struggled to stand when his neck was encased and he was lifted off his feet to be slammed against one of the columns. He choked around around Vladimir’s iron grip, thrashing and lashing against it for all he was worth, but it was as hopeless as attacking a statue. The vampire’s eyes glowed crimson as they ran up and down Britannia’s form with a hunger, zeroing in on his bloody side that continued to weep.

‘Pardon the pun Britannia, but you smell absolutely _divine_.’

Vladimir’s claws came up and Britannia compressed the pain into a long groan as he dung into the wound he had inflicted with the same cruel curiosity a cat had when playing with their food. Britannia’s breaths became laboured, sucking in and out quick, shallow gasps as Vladimir touched his stained fingers to his lips and licked them with a shiver. The Briton’s thrashing turned hysterical when the man’s bloody lips pulled back over his fangs with a snarl and using his free hand, yanked down the herm of his suit to expose the bare skin of his neck, goose-bump riddled and sweat-slick.

‘Don’t resist, it will only hurt more.’ Vladimir chuckled before he reared and sank his teeth in. 

 Britannia screamed. Searing agony speared through his veins like molten silver, short-circuiting his nervous system to shut down. Green eyes began to roll up in their sockets as Britannia went limp and Vladimir clutched onto him; drinking his blood in long, deep pulls, making Britannia’s vision darken with each gluttonous, sloppy gulp.

_Move! What are you doing!_

_Fight back! You can’t just die now,_

_what about Alfred? What about_

_your brothers?_

  _What about them?_

_They’ll just leave you,_

_like Columbia._

 

_What is the difference between_

_the Red Queen and a Hurricane?_

 

_You are going to die if you don’t move!_

_For god’s sake, please!_

_Why bother?_

_Don’t be a spoilsport._

_I’ll tell you: both are cruel and_

_destructive, but only one_

_means to  be!_

 

_It’s better this way._

_Alfred will be safe from Hatter._

_No!_

_What about your brothers?_

_Who will protect them?_

_This reminds me of a poem!_

_“He took his vorpal sword in hand:_

_Long time the manxome foe_

_his sought—_

 

_Allistor, Seamus and Dylan,_

_will be able to move on and lead proper lives._

_Haven’t you hurt them enough?_

_No. I’m…not done—_

_One, two! One, two!_

_And through and through_

_The vorpal  blade went_

_snicker-snack!_

 

_No one will mourn you,_

_only your usefulness._

_No…_

 

_It’s over._

_He left it dead—_

_Please—_

_and with it’s head—_

_Alfred—_

_he went galumphing back.”_

Over the voices, over the slapping of skin against skin, and slurps, Arthur’s ears rang as he felt his heart beat lull slow and heavy, each breath weaker than the last, when all of a sudden, Vladimir was ripped from him. 

Britannia crumpled boneless to the ground, dark bloats over his vision to blind him.

‘Arthur—’ Someone called out—someone real, not just a voice—and Britannia distantly heard his raw throat gasp when something cold pressed against his pulsating throat, sealing close the open bleeding bite whilst wrapping Britannia in images of peppermint, shaved ice and frost crystals; dowsing and soothing the fire that had coarse through him. 

He tried to open his mouth, to talk, but his tongue was clumsy, his mind liquified soup. Instead, he learnt into the cool person’s touch, and gratefully passed out; trusting the tingle of his healing magic to have the damage repaired by the time he would be ready to wake up again.

When Britannia stirred, blinking the fuzziness from his eyes, he became aware that he was being cradled into someone’s arms as they wept. Britannia blinked again slowly and made out the navy blue and silver star that belonged to Columbia. He watched for a moment, fascinated by the ragged bob and shudder of the American’s frame before he shifted and drew the crying hero’s attention.

‘B-B-Britanni-a?—’ Columbia sobbed, his grip tightening around Britannia on the point of suffocation and Britannia squirmed. ‘Oh my god. _Oh my god_ , I thought you were dead. I thought you were _dead_. I’m sorry, I am so _so_ sorry.’

‘Columbia—’

‘Gaul was right. I’m pathetic and weak and I’m not worthy of being at your side. I’m not strong enough.’ 

‘Columbia! You are—Uh! Crushing—me!’ Britannia choked and gasped heavily when the Columbia released his as though he had burnt him.

‘Sorry! I’m sorry I—’

‘If you say “sorry” one more time, I’m going to smack you so hard you’ll be seeing double for the next week,’ Britannia glared as he reached up to capture the American’s chin and tilt it down to him. ‘I’m alright, just a little sore. Now, what is this prattle that you’re going on about not being worthy?’

Columbia’s brows pulled together, and he moved Britannia’s hand from his chin to his cheek and nuzzled into it. ‘It’s—something Gaul said made me realise something important. I’m not a hero in the same league as you B. As it is now, if I try to be your partner, I’ll always just be second rate in the eyes’ of the public. I—I have to make the name Columbia stand for something.’

‘And that’s why you joined the DIA?’ Britannia muttered softly, tracing the faint dusting of freckles on Columbia’s cheek as the man nodded. ‘I see…’

‘I should of told you. I just—I knew that if I did, you’ve have tried to talk me out of it…And I don’t think I could of said no to you.’

Britannia dropped his gaze, swallowing thickly as he stared at Columbia’s chest instead, leaning in to rest his head where his heart beat and listen; steady and sure. ‘Is this what you want Columbia? Truly?’

‘Yes,’ Columbia promised, his face tender, yet determined with solid conviction, as he gazed down at Britannia in his arms. ‘Yes it is.’

‘Then I accept that. You have my support, whatever you do,’ Britannia assured before he sat down to look at Columbia properly, his hand remaining firmly over the American’s heart. ‘However, if we are to be partners after this, _real partners_ , then we have to have complete trust in each other. That means we do not keep secrets from each other, _ever._ ’

Columbia winced, an invisible battle of shadows moving behind his eyes. ‘Even if it will hurt you.’

Britannia squeezed his hand over Columbia’s chest. ‘I don’t care how terrible it is. There can’t be any secrets. Nothing that can used to drive us apart.’

Columbia regarded him for a long, pregnant moment before he bit down on his lip and reluctantly nodded. Britannia smiled at him even as he felt the corners of his vision start to darken again. 

He heard Columbia call out his name, and he might of replied, had his head not been so comfortable in the crook of Columbia’s neck; warm, safe and snug enough to fall asleep into.

* * *

 

‘Britannia? Arthur?’ Alfred whispered when he felt Arthur’s head loll against his collarbone, tucking in under the crook of his neck. Only after a few seconds of listening to the Brit’s deep breathing to reassure himself that he was asleep, did Columbia shift his grip and tap his earpiece to open his comms to Matthew. 

‘Acadia? You there?’

‘Yeah— Yeah I’m here. You okay? Everyone else is fine, though Svea took a bit of a hit for King after North went after Britannia—’

‘Can you patch in Saxony and co.? I need you all to hear this.’

There was a low murmur of voices before a fresh static pop resounded on the line as the Kirkland brothers joined. 

‘What is it lad? Is it Britannia? His life support readings are fine.’ Allistor’s voice spoke.

‘Britannia’s fine, North saved him in time. I’ve got him sleeping right now. I’d actually like to ask if I come have the apartment, just Britannia and myself tonight, when we get back.’ Columbia pleaded, distracting himself from gnawing on his lip by watching the soothing rise and fall of Arthur’s breath.

There was a pause. 

‘Of course you can lad, but I have to ask. Why?’

Columbia took a deep breath and steeled himself. This was it. This was _it._

‘I’m going to him. I’m going to tell Britannia the truth of who I really am.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh my god!- Okay, it's happening. Everyone, stay calm- Everyone stay calm-"
> 
> "What's the procedure everyone? What's the procedure?"
> 
> "STAY FUCKING CALM!"
> 
> ...
> 
> But I digress ;)
> 
> Unbelievably huge chapter for characterisation and plot. So many different types of relationships are explored; North and King, Britannia and Gaul (I think I defined their relationship pretty well in a line: murky water) and Britannia and Columbia. The characterisation pretty much speaks for itself: we see how (badly) Britannia is coping under all the emotional stress, how 'X' is slowly starting to cause his mind to deteriorate, make him hear voices and make us question just how sane is he now. So many pieces clicked together in this chapter, and I loved just amping, and amping the pressure gauge for our heroes.
> 
> Next chapter, oh boy, next chapter. The big reveal. The Big Reveal. The moment we've all been screaming and shouting and crying for. I don't want to spoil anything for you, but if you thought this chapter was emotional, I promise you will not survive the next one :3
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you are liking this story, then please take the time to consider leaving a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,
> 
> Until next time folks!


	23. 'I Love You'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Down the Rabbit Hole
> 
> Chapter 23! Oh man, I am so sorry this took forever to come out. Freshers just swallowed up all my time, and I've just purchased Stardrew valley on my Switch, and I've been reliving that sweet, sweet Harvest Moon nostalgia.
> 
> I would like to send out hugs and kisses to everyone who reviewed last chapter. Some actually made me tear up, and it makes me so thankful for your feedback. Some readers have questioned how this fic is not more popular, but honestly, just reading your reviews-specially whose of you who review regularly- makes me realise that I don't have to have a huge audience if I've got a nice, small, lovely one.
> 
> You guys make me want to continue writing for this fandom, and I cannot be more grateful to you xxx
> 
> Just to clear up some questions that some reviewers raised: In the last chapter, when Arthur was bitten by Vlad, it was Alfred who pulled the vampire off him, and North that used his ice magic to soothe Arthur's wounds. Bearing in mind, both heroes know Arthur's true identity, so either one could of cried out to him, but I'd probably lean more to it being North. I imagine that Alfred was too enraged to think about anything else than getting Vlad away from Arthur.
> 
> And now...the moment everyone has been waiting for this the beginning. The big reveal.
> 
> Let
> 
> Us
> 
> Go!

Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

 

Spades District, 221 Baker’s Street, The Kirkland Residence

Just as Allistor had promised it would be, Alfred found the Kirkland’s penthouse empty when he pushed open the front door. Arthur, held bridal style in his arms, had taken the Britannia gas mask off the moment they’d stepped into the building’s lobby, and his head was jostled in it’s nestled spot on Alfred’s shoulder as he carried him up the stairs and into his bedroom. The apartment was in near complete darkness, illuminated only by the soft, pulsing neon lights of the city a world away.

‘You know that you don’t have to go this far.’ Arthur muttered as Alfred gently eased him onto his queen sized bed, ignoring the dismissive shooing motions when he began to unlace the man’s boots.

‘You almost died Arthur.’ Alfred disagreed, still unable to look at the rapidly fading bite mark gracing Arthur’s neck; the memory of his weakening pulse beneath his fingers still too sharp.

Arthur’s hand darted and grasped around Alfred’s wrist when he went to move back. ‘But I didn’t, thanks to you. Thank you, Columbia.’

‘I should of been faster,’ Alfred shied away, his throat tight to make his words raspy. ‘I should of realised what was wrong sooner.’

Arthur squeezed his hand. ‘You were fast enough to save me. Isn’t that what matters at the end of the day?’

Alfred gulped, staring at their intertwined fingers, charged on the electricity of the contact. He wanted this. Good god, he wanted this, but Alfred knew he’d have to pay the price. He stood to lose or gain everything, but he knew that. He knew it was worth the risk.

Arthur had almost died. Alfred had almost lost him forever, without telling him how much he loved him…He would never let that happen again.

‘Arthur, I want to tell you something and— I know it’s something you’re not gonna like.’

Arthur looked at him, beautiful, big eyes so very, very green. ‘There’s more you have to tell me? I thought we’d given up on secrets.’ He said with a half-hearted laugh.

Alfred’s squirming stomach knotted itself, and he removed his hand from Arthur’s. ‘I— I’m going to take off my mask,’ Arthur’s expression immediately contorted, ‘I want you to know who I really am.’

‘What? No. I don’t want to— Columbia, please.’ Arthur paled as he frantically scrambled back on the bed, hitting the headboard with the desperation of a cornered animal.

‘Arthur, please—’ Alfred crawled onto the bed, the mattress sinking beneath his weight, and reached out for him.

‘No! No, no don’t. Please.’ Arthur shrilled, lashing out a hand to ward him back, keep him away. He was trembling so violently, and it pained Alfred to know he was the cause of it.

‘Arthur,’ Alfred caught Arthur’s flailing wrists, the blond screwing his eyes shut and hanging his head, keeping his chin tucked so his bangs hid his face. Alfred transferred both wrists into one hand, freeing the other to take off his goggles, and pressed them into Arthur’s shaking hands, making him freeze. Gently, Alfred took Arthur’s hands and placed them on either side of his face; the Brit’s touch making the blood in his cheeks boil. 

‘Look at me.’ 

‘No,’ Arthur whined, shaking his head. ‘No Columbia, please. I can’t— _I can’t_.’

‘Arthur, _look at me_.’

Each second drew out into an eternity, twin wet trails streaking down his cheeks, as Arthur statically forced himself to meet Alfred’s stare, and crumpled. 

‘I didn’t— I didn’t want to believe…’ Arthur choked, his shoulders caved in on themselves as Alfred blinked in shock.

‘You knew?’

Arthur dropped his head, hands sliding down to yank on Alfred’s suit, continuing to shake his head as his eyes closed. ‘Why? Why couldn’t you just—’

‘Arthur—’

‘YOU SELFISH _FUCKING PRICK!_ ,’ He screeched, Alfred recoiling as though he had been struck. He would of honesty preferred that; it would of hurt less. ‘You knew, you knew what you mean’t—WHY?! Why did you have to tell me?’

‘I’m done with keeping secrets from you, Arthur. It might be selfish, but I’m tired of hiding.’

‘I wanted it to be someone else, anyone else. Anyone else but you,’ Arthur wept, all tension suddenly drained from him, causing him to slump forward against Alfred’s chest; the American’s arms instinctively sliding to wrap around him. ‘ _Why_ did it have to be _you_?’

Alfred tightened his hold, listening to Arthur’s heartbeat race, his tears soaking into his shoulder.

‘Do you hate me now?’ He croaked around the lump in his throat, and felt Arthur stiffen for several seconds before he tightened his grip on Alfred’s suit.

‘No. I don’t hate you,’ Arthur muttered and pulled back to cradle Alfred’s jaw between his hands, his shimmering eyes tracing over Alfred’s features. ‘How could I?’

‘So, what you said the morning after the night we went to Jasmine Dragon, that’s still true?’

_‘I am in love with him.’_

_‘He’s my sun.’_

Alfred’s stomach flipped when Arthur’s cheeks flushed a pretty cherry red and his lips took a slight pout as he turned his head aside.

‘Well—that’s…’ The Brit stammered.

‘Glad to know the feelings mutual.’ Alfred chuckled as he nudged his nose against Arthur’s, breathing in his familiar scent that soothed him; smelling of home. Arthur leaned into the touch, an eskimo kiss before he pressed their foreheads together, their hot breaths intermingling and warming their upper lips.

‘I wanted to keep you out of all this,’ Arthur sighed. ‘I thought distance would keep you safe.’

‘You’re forgetting that I was already on the streets, punching bad guys as Columbia months before you met Alfred.’ Alfred reminded and Arthur shivered.

‘I honestly don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.’ He returned with a small laugh before he trailed his hand down to rest above Alfred’s heart. ‘Thinking about you green isn’t very reassuring.’

‘Hey! I was decent at it!’ 

‘Hardly. You were all over the place from the moment I first laid eyes on you!’ Arthur scoffed and squealed when Alfred pounced and flipped him around to bounce on the mattress before he crawled over him on all fours.

‘Oh yeah? Wanna know what I thought when I first saw you in costume?’ Alfred smirked, ‘I thought that the posters and cameras couldn’t come close to doing that fine ass justice.’

‘You!’ Arthur gasped, before a mischievous glint took his eye and he twisted his hips so that he was straddling Alfred; the latter feeling a rush of heat envelope him with the rough friction against each other’s crotches. 

A beat passed between them as they gazed at each other. Wordlessly, they leant in and connected as one. A breathy groan rose up in Alfred’s throat as Arthur’s hands slid from around his wrists up into his hair, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss.

Arthur’s lips were soft, yet, held an undeniable desperate edge that stole Alfred’s breath away, making his heart race and thunder. They moved and moulded against each other in tandem, harmony, both seeking, wanting and needing more and more; losing themselves in the other.

They broke apart with a gasp, chests heaving and lungs panting.

‘That,’ Alfred gulped thickly. ‘Should of been our first kiss.’

‘I’ll second that.’ Arthur breathed, emerald greens half-lidded and cheeks flush.

‘Arthur?’ Alfred pushed back the Brit’s hanging golden bangs.

‘Hm?’

‘Could I…could I stay tonight?’

The ruby red of Arthur’s cheeks rose up to colour his entire face, steam practically whistling out of his ears as he squirmed on top of Alfred; the action testing the American’s will not to release a groan of pleasure.

‘That’s—I—Yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.’ He blushed before he straightened up, long legs shifting either side of Alfred’s hips, and stripped off the upper part of the Britannia suit.

Alfred’s jaw fell open; the sight and implication at what he was seeing causing his thoughts to short circuit. 

Arthur. 

Britannia. 

In bed.

_With him._

_Topless._

‘Alfred, you’re staring.’ Arthur’s words cut him back into the hot room, a thick brow raised dubiously.

Alfred shook his head. How was Arthur not aware what a total knock out he was? ‘You’re just—so beautiful. I can’t believe that I finally get to hold you like this.’

Arthur’s smile was radiant, and Alfred knew he’d be happy to worship it everyday for the rest of his life. Everything he’d been through, all the pain and confusion and lies, he’d do it all again if Arthur would bless him with another of those smiles.

‘I can scarcely believe it myself. I keep thinking I’ll wake up at any moment. That at any moment, everything will shift, and I’ll be back in one of my nightmares with Hatter.’

‘Hey,’ Alfred tenderly gripped Arthur by the hips and rolled over so that he was on top, hovering and hyperaware of the nakedness of Arthur’s torso; the sheer droplets of sweat that collected along his collarbone. The cream of his skin, the gold of his hair, and the deep green of his eyes; Arthur, laid spread out amongst the cotton sheets, was an old renaissance master’s crown jewel, so heavenly that it must of been inspired right out of a biblical verse. 

‘You’re right here, with me. Hatter and the nightmares can’t get you. You’re safe, you’re safe and I promise to do everything in my power to keep you that way.’

The corners of Arthur’s eyes crinkled, tears balancing on the edge. ‘Alfred F. Jones, you are an sentimental, idealistic, overly optimistic, daft duck, you know that?’

‘I do. But I’m _your_ daft duck.’ Alfred smiled, before a yelp escaped him with Arthur wrapping his arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss so fierce that Alfred swore his soul temporarily left his body.

‘Either you take off this bloody suit right now, or I tear it off.’ Arthur hissed around the kiss, fingers twisting and tugging at Alfred’s hair to clutch him closer.

‘You—You want to? You mean it?’ Alfred’s voice squeaked, embarrassingly high-pitched, and Arthur pinned him with a later focused look. 

‘Did I _stutter_?' 

Alfred grinned, and whipped off the top of his suit ‘No, sir.’

…

 

Each thrust of their hips was the crescent wave crashing against the white cliffs of Dover; the soul-reverberating chime of fat bellied church bells; the smith’s iron hammer against the white hot anvil. The air was thick, moist with the heavy musk of sweat and arousal; the groans, and moans, and grunts of the two lovers becoming one. Fine hairs stood on end. Goosebumps riddled their sweat-slick, flushed skin. Cries resounded in the night, cries for more, for _more._

Making love to Arthur was a testified religion in of itself, and Alfred threw himself before the marble altar, mind, body and spirit. Each one of Arthur’s cries as he entered him, a line of the Lord’s hymn. Each scream for Alfred to go faster, harder, an Angel’s chorus. The choir sang Hallelujah, and Alfred rejoiced with them; at last able to embrace the man, and the angel, he had devoted his heart to. 

Alfred’s breaths came out as pants, quick, shallow, laboured, as he rocked his hips into Arthur; rolling, climbing, and building for the tumble that would send them both over the edge.

‘Alfred—Urgh!’ Arthur mewled beneath him, his blond bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat, his eyes screwed shut. Hot and shining, and red all over. Wiped. Breath-taking. 

‘Alfred I’m close!’

Alfred could of said the same from the way Arthur’s insides clamped around him, tighter and tighter with every fevered thrust.

‘I got you.’ Alfred grunted, and Arthur screamed when he wrapped his hand around his cock, and began to messily pump at a hard tempo. Pushing, pressing, riding hard for their climax.

Neither man lasted long after that, coming explosively with the other’s name on their swollen lips. Alfred allowed himself to bask in the orgasmic, rosy after-glow a second longer, nuzzling his forehead against Arthur’s before he unsheathed himself and stumbled off the bed into the en suite. After tying off and flushing the condom, washing his hands and splashing his face with cold water, Alfred slipped back between the warm sheets; pressing a chaste kiss on Arthur’s cheek as he wrapped his arms around him. The Brit gave a content, blissed out moan as he rolled into the cuddle and pulled Alfred down into a long, lazy smooch.

 ‘I love you.’ Alfred hummed when they parted, his lips still tingling as he moved and began to trace the constellations of marks and love bites he had left along Arthur’s collarbone and neck. 

Arthur gripped the trailing fingers and brought them to his lips, locking his gaze with Alfred’s, sage green, depthless eyes drawing him in. ‘And I you.’ He whispered, his lids growing heavy like Alfred’s as fatigue finally caught up on them, deepening their breaths as they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

 

Like sleeping beauty, Arthur woke up from his sleep to a kiss. He blinked slowly as his vision focused on Alfred’s smiling face; his smile as radiant as the sun beams that streamed through the bedroom windows, and eyes bluer that the sky they came from. 

Last night…felt like a dream. Alfred outing himself as Columbia, them sleeping together, declaring their love. It all felt too much, too much to all happen in one night at least. Perhaps it shouldn’t of happened that way. In an ideal world, it would of been slower, smoother. The declaration, Alfred’s revelation, it would of been organic, simpler.

But he and Alfred didn’t live in that world. Live fast, die young; that was the motto. The world was harsh and messy, and it demanded their time. They couldn’t afford the luxury of slowly falling in love, the lives they led wouldn’t allow it. They had to grab what they could, and cling onto it for dear life; just as a famous pirate said: take it all, give nothing back.

Alfred had known that if he hadn’t told Arthur, he might’ve never had the chance again. He had seen the opportunity, calculated the risk, and took it. And for all the trouble and all the tears, the moments when Arthur feared his heart would explode in his chest, he was thankful for Alfred’s gambit and recklessness.

Everything was different now. Arthur lived an impossible life, one darkened by old, long shadows and the beasts that in them. His past was a riddled disaster, his future— well, Arthur honestly considered it a working miracle that he’d made it into his twenties. He was dangerous, his life was dangerous, and now Alfred shared it with him.

He—

‘Hey,’ Alfred cut off his downward spiralling thoughts with a soft smile, so sweet that it wiped Arthur’s mind clean. ‘How did you sleep? Any nightmares?’

Arthur shifted, causing the warm sheets to slide off so that they barely covered his modesty. ‘No. No nightmares.’

‘That’s because you had your snuggly teddybear with you.’ Alfred returned, and Arthur wrinkled his nose in good humour.

‘I’m not sure I want to associate what we did last night to the image of a teddybear. I’d like to keep the fond memories of my childhood rabbit just as that, thank you.’ 

Alfred’s mouth opened to quip back, when his gaze dropped to his naked hips and his brows shot up. ‘Wo-Woah.’

Arthur’s own thick brows drew together before he followed Alfred’s ogling stare down, and squawked. 

‘You gave me bloody bruises!’ He shrieked as he shot up right, raking and pulling at the darkened twin imprints—in the quite distinct shape of hands, mind—on either side of his hips. 

What the?!

Alfred’s eyes remained as large as saucepans as he continued to unapologetically stare. ‘Would it be wrong to say that I think it’s kinda hot?’

‘Alfred!’

‘What? We all have kinks. You loved it to last night.’ Alfred countered, and Arthur folded his arms across his chest and turned his nose up. He was already beginning to dread the full body examination that would come with getting a shower.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘“ _Alfred! Harder! Hard_ —”.’ Arthur slapped his hand over the grinning American’s mouth with a dark look.

‘Not. Another. Word.’ He growled and cried out in disgust, reflexively recoiling when Alfred licked his palm. 

‘You know you love me.’ Alfred smirked, giddy with cockiness as Arthur swiped his hand on him.

‘Hm. I’m starting to re-consider. Perhaps breakfast would prolong the judgement?’ 

Alfred gave a short laugh before he leant in for a peck on lips and climbed out of bed; Arthur appreciative of the view as the sheets fell away to expose his nakedness; specifically that of his incredibly broad, muscular back and the hard sculpted lines of his abdomen.

‘You got bacon and eggs?’ He asked and strode over to the hook where Arthur hung his black dressing gown.

‘Second and third shelf from the top. I like mine without the fat.’ Arthur smiled as he pulled it on and grabbed the door handle.

‘Just for you then, gorgeous.’ Alfred winked before he left. Arthur breathed in a deep, cleansing breath, one hand running through his awful bed hair to catch on the knots that he knew he’d have fun untangling in the shower as he looked out the window to the new day. 

It was a good morning.

* * *

 

‘Without the fat, _and_ scrambled eggs on toast with some cute-baby tomatoes I found.’ Alfred beamed when Arthur reached the bottom of the stairs, pulling on his baggy ‘The Police’ band t-shirt over his wet hair and Doctor Who boxers. 

‘Cheers love.’ He thanked as he took a seat on the sofa and accepted the steaming breakfast plate off him before he reached for the television remote. Alfred took a seat next to him, blowing loudly on his sunny-side eggs whilst Arthur tapped the power button.

‘Yes Caroline, after the sneak preview event, Terra cannot be more excited for it’s founding festival tomorrow. With this year’s theme ‘Alice in Wonderland’ and invigorated enthusiasm and increased budget from the city council, the festival is sure to be one to remember,’ The pretty news anchor presented inside a warehouse, packed with the other festival floats that would be unveiled the next day.

‘And now, over to Brian updates on the latest police investigation of the missing neuroscientists.’

Arthur tapped the volume button until it was a low murmur before he swallowed his bacon and scrapped the last of his eggs into his mouth. ‘With any luck, they’ll be back in their beds by tomorrow morning.’

Alfred’s face was priceless when Arthur released the plate and bled to send it zooming into the kitchen sink. Increasing the flow of his magic, Arthur snapped his fingers to imitate the Sorcerer’s apprentice, and had the dirtied frying pan and plates begin washing themselves up, fairy liquid and sponge dancing as they worked. 

Arthur focused, and summoned his spell book with a flash of light and flick of his wrist. The large tome hovered level to his chest, it’s pages fluttering and flapping with an almost joy.

‘Get outta here!’ Alfred howled, his half eaten plate forgotten as he crawled over to gape the book. Arthur gave an amused eye roll before he made a beckoning motion and felt the pull as one of the hidden chests downstairs in the dojo came free from the shelf and zoomed up the stairs into his waiting hands. 

Ignoring the curious nosies being made by Alfred, Arthur unlocked the lock with a tap and opened the lid to reveal one of his most impressive variations of the Britannia suit: The Valkyrie, a suit that Arthur had poured hours upon hours into charming it to the nines. It was similar to his usual suit, only streamlined and completely black for stealth purposes, with many holsters for various weapons, and a gas mask with green lens that lit up. Arthur ran his fingers over the coarse fabric, reading the invisible lines of spells he had woven into it; enchantments of speed, durability, lightness for high jumps and so on. 

As he worked, in the corner of his eye, Alfred pawed at his spell book like a playful puppy. He plucked it out the air and rifled through the pages before he suddenly gasped at whatever he saw. A upward glance and the golden bookmark told Arthur that he’d come to his weapon index.

‘You have other weapons than Excalibur?!’ Alfred exclaimed and and swivelled the book around to show Arthur the chapter, making the Brit chuckle. Because, of course, it wasn’t as though he’d seen it countless times before.

‘Yes. That’s Fail-not, a bow of Tristan from Arthurian legend that never misses,’ Arthur pointed to the illustration of said long bow, a block of runic text below it. He flipped to the next chapter. ‘And that’s Ascalon, the spear that St George used to kill the dragon.’

‘Why does it say Saxony here? Isn’t that Allistor’s codename?’ Alfred asked, peering at the spear, and Arthur scratched his nose.

‘It’s a little more complicated than that. Saxony is a persona, the wearer of the Green Armour, which is set of magical armour that protects the wearer from physical injuries, and the wielder of Ascalon together. With the armour’s invincibility, and the spear’s power, it makes for a terrifying combo.’

‘So, Allistor ran around as some super powered knight in shining armour? That’s awesome. Could, uh—anyone wear the Green Armour?’

‘No. You have to be compatible with both weapons, and so far, the only one has displayed the aptitude for it has been Allistor,’ Arthur explained and nudged Alfred with his elbow. ‘Sorry to disappoint, love. Even if you were compatible, I doubt your Lucid immunity would allow it.’  

‘Aw. Invincible armour would of been rad,’ Alfred pouted as he took the book back. ‘Stupid Lucid immunity.’

‘It rather a double-edged sword isn’t it? You’re practically untouchable to Lucid individuals, but it also means that I am completely powerless to heal you should you get injured.’ Arthur sighed.

‘Nah, you’ve got nothing to worry about,’ Alfred hummed, and frowned when he turned to the next page. ‘“The Vorpal Blade”?’

‘What?!’ Arthur shrieked and yanked the book back. 

The page he looked at was entirely black, save for the calligraphed white title words ‘ _The Vorpal Blade_ ’, and a printed passage of neat text beneath it.

 

_’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves_

_Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:_

_All mimsy were the borogoves,_

_And the mome raths outgrabe._

 

_“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!_

_The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!_

_Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun_

_The frumious Bandersnatch!”_

 

_He took his vorpal sword in hand;_

_Long time the manxome foe he sought—_

_So rested he by the Tumtum tree_

_And stood awhile in thought._

 

_And, as in uffish thought he stood,_

_The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,_

_Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,_

_And burbled as it came!_

 

_One, two! One, two! And through and through_

_The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!_

_He left it dead, and with its head_

_He went galumphing back._

 

_“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?_

_Come to my arms, my beamish boy!_

_O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”_

_He chortled in his joy._

 

_’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves_

_Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:_

_All mimsy were the borogoves,_

_And the mome raths outgrabe._

‘What the hell?,’ Alfred remarked, reading over Arthur’s shoulder. ‘“Brillig”? “Galumphing”? This poem is bogus, half these words don’t make sense!’

‘I know this poem,’ Arthur muttered around chewing his thumbnail, staring hard at the lines and raked his memory for their original source, only to have the answer evade him. ‘Though I couldn’t say where from.’

Alfred looked at him as though he’d lost his mind (and to be truthful, there were times when Arthur doubted he hadn’t already) ‘Dude, seriously? This reads like it was written by someone cray-cray. I mean, like, what kind of monster is a “Jabberwocky”?’

‘One that only the Vorpal Blade can slay apparently. I believe the better question here, is why this is even in my spell book. Entries are usually only added when I master a spell, summon or technique. I’ve never had an entry I wasn’t aware of before.’

‘Dunno. It’s in your weapons section, so maybe you’re gonna get a cool new weapon like Excalibur!’ Alfred grinned, though Arthur felt he couldn’t mirror the man’s excitement. Something about the black page didn’t feel right to him, unnerving even. It was the only colour inverted page in his spell book, a dark chapter in his story. Whatever this ‘Vorpal Blade’ had in store for him, Arthur felt it couldn’t be pleasant.

‘Maybe,’ He offered for Alfred’s benefit and shut the book. ‘Regardless, such speculation has no relevance to our mission, so it’s no good to dwell on it now.’

‘You’re writing it off?’ Alfred questioned with a raised brow. ‘Arthur, this could be huge. Another freakin’ Excalibur!’

‘I’m being efficient. I don’t have time to waste experimenting with theoretical magic that I “might” be able to use. Columbia, Gaul and Britannia raid Spades’ Cardverse club tonight. This may be our last chance to find out where Wang is keeping the missing neuroscientists. We cannot afford even the slightest distraction.’

Alfred shook his head before he combed his hair through his hair. ‘I mean, yeah, but—’

‘ _But_ nothing, Alfred. End of discussion. Now I suggest you go put some clothes on before either of our brothers walk through the front door. They’re not going to give us the morning _and_ afternoon to ourselves, and I highly doubt that they will appreciate your nudity.’

‘Shut up, everyone knows I have a hunky-licious bod.’ Alfred stuck his tongue out as he heaved himself off the sofa and made for the stairs. Arthur watched him go.

‘Myself more than anyone I’m sure, love.’ Arthur chuckled at the wink that Alfred threw back his way as he climbed the stairs. The Brit held the smile a second longer before he huffed and turned his attention back to checking over the Valkyrie suit for frays in the spell lining. 

 He couldn’t afford the slightest distraction. Everything had to be perfect for tonight.

* * *

 

Preparations for the Spades’ raid went long into the late evening. Everyone was gathered in the front room, checking, preparing and gearing up for the long night. Matthew was sat with Dylan, pouring over the nightclubs blueprints and calibrating the suit UI systems. Arthur, with Seamus’ assistance, was already suited up in his Valkyrie suit, of which was outfitted for too many weapons for Alfred’s liking; belts of throwing knives, smoke and flash grenades, and a thin string of mystic charms and talismans hung from his utility belt.

Alfred’s gut curled as he watched Arthur holster a black steel latin machete on his back, and jumped when Allistor came over to stand with him, leaning casually on the kitchen countertop.

‘I don’t know if you’ve realised, but he’s not taking all those knives to cut any cakes.’ The Scot muttered low enough for only Alfred to hear.

‘He wouldn’t kill anyone though, would he?’ Alfred asked, gnawing on his lower lip as he saw Arthur select a semi-automatic pistol from one of the surrounding weapons crates, slide the chamber back to check the bullet, and holster it and an extra magazine on his hip. 

Allistor crossed his arms. ‘If it comes between you and one of Wang’s yakuza—even Wang himself, do you really think there’s a question of who he’d prioritise?’

Alfred couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. ‘I just, don’t wanna see him turn into something he’s not.’

‘You got two choices then, lad. Do something about it, or don’t look.’

‘Gee, great advise.’ Alfred scoffed, and Allistor shrugged.

‘Take it or leave it. Like I said, it’s your choice.’

Alfred gave a curt nod and waited for Allistor to move on before he strolled over and dropped himself down beside Matthew, who glanced over from typing on his keyboard.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey. Eh, for someone who finally got laid with the guy he’s been pining for for months, you don’t look very happy.’ Matthew pointed out, and Alfred sighed.

‘That obvious, huh?’

‘When Allistor said you wanted the apartment to yourselves, we figured that you two were either going to work it out and fuck, or fight. Considering the place is still in one piece, I figured it was the former,’ Matthew’s smirk flickered out when he saw that his brother’s sullen expression didn’t change.

‘Come on. Talk to me Al.’ 

‘The mission, the Guardians, Arthur. It’s just piling up, y’know? Not that long ago, failing Bonnefoy’s class was my highest priority.’

Matthew winced. ‘ _Yeah_ , you clearly haven’t been checking your emails. Bonnefoy’s been trying to contact you for days. Says that you are *this* close to being kicked off the course.’

‘Goddammit,’ Alfred groaned with a hang of his head. ‘What’s a guy gotta do to catch a break round here?’

‘I would offer to go to lectures as you, but unfortunately, Bonnefoy’s one of the few that can actually tell us apart. You’re just going to have to get on your knees after this is all over, and beg for another chance.’

‘Bye bye dignity, I guess… _Unless,_ I ask Germania to pull some strings.’ Alfred impishly grinned, his smile only growing at the horrified look on his brother’s face.

‘Alfred _no_.’

‘Alfred _yes!_ ’ 

* * *

 

From his distance, Arthur watched as Matthew cuffed Alfred over the back of the head and the two of them dissolved into a fit of laughter and play-wrestling. His attention was stolen from gazing that the light reflecting off Alfred’s perfect teeth by Seamus thrusting his tactical combat knife at him.

‘My brother from another mother, you look ready to carve some fools the fuck up.’ Seamus approved with a up and down once over of his weaponised appearance.

Arthur nodded as he took the knife and slid it into it’s sheathe strapped on his lower back. ‘That’s the idea.’

‘What’re you gonna do when you get to Wang?’

‘Whatever I have to to get the neuroscientists’ location, and after that? Well…let me just say that I haven’t forgotten the Jasmine Dragon and what Wang’s goon did to Alfred.’ Arthur answered darkly, pulling on his gloves and fastening them tight.

‘Hopefully, whatever Gaul wants from Wang won’t interfere much.’ Seamus mused and Arthur frowned as he swiped away an imaginary speck of lint on the back of his gloves.

‘Yes, consider me curious about that as well.’ He muttered before he looked over to where Matthew had Alfred wrapped between his thighs, pulling his hair and slapping him silly. Five years olds. He was in love with a five year old.

‘Alfred! Come on! Stop faffing about and suit up. We have work to do!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. Arthur and Alfred, together at last.
> 
> This chapter was refreshing to write. It was the climax of the largest conflict in the fic, and hopefully, it was a satisfying one. It's the end of an arch, but we still have the conflict of Hatter and Wang hovering to keep the tension going.
> 
> I had a huge debate with myself on how to write the sex scene. I was curious to try my hand at smut-styled writing, but when I began to write it, it didn't fit the tone of the chapter. This fic leans toward the action-adventure-thriller genre, and a overly graphic sex scene would of felt misplaced in it. I felt that keeping the scene emotional and fluffy was the way to go, and matched Arthur's and Alfred's love. I hope it wasn't too cringe worthy to read XD
> 
> This chapter consisted of two parts really: Arthur and Alfred's night and morning, that is domestic and romantic and happy, and the evening, that took a darker turn, and is meant to leave a slightly better taste in reader's mouth. Arthur's passage about talking about the world reflects this. In an ideal world, Arthur and Alfred would lavish in long hours of each other's company, kissing and loving each other. But they aren't in that world, and they have a job to do, despite of their earth-shattering development.
> 
> While we've had this brilliant spark of romance, we and Arthur are by no means out of the water. His mind, well-it is still decaying, it's still not getting any better. Alfred does help, he brings out the best in Arthur and inspires positivity in his life, but it's only a substitute. Arthur's sanity is a very real problem, and it is deeply ingrained in his psyche. It's not leaving any time soon until Arthur can dig down to the root of the problem and correct it, which may be harder than any of us realise.
> 
> Of course, the Vorpal Blade poem is actually named, 'The Jabberwocky' by Lewis Carroll, I do not claim to have written, not possess the rights to it.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you are liking this fic, please consider to take the time to leave a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,
> 
> Until next time folks!


	24. 'And I'm Sorry'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 24! And this chapter, boy, let's just say this is some chapter. Huge, huge apologises for being away for so long. I have deadlines coming up fast, and I have also started writing for the Voltron fandom, so that's also eating into my time alongwith having a life.
> 
> We are almost finished with this fic, maybe three chapters left to go? Super hyped to get this done and see what you all think :D
> 
> Thank you so much to all you who reviewed, especially considering my lack of activity. It truly means the world.
> 
> Now without further ado, the next chapter!
> 
> Enjoy!

Down the Rabbit Hole

* * *

Spades, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirkland Residence.

' _Ahem_.'

Alfred raised an eyebrow at the Brit, and cocked his head in confusion when he suggestively nodded to Allistor as the lift doors  _pinged!_  open to reveal the Kirkland's underground garage; the lofty stone basement lined by sleek cars so expensive that Alfred could of drooled.

Seamus and Allistor were the first out of the elevator, and headed straight for the bumblebee yellow Lamborghini, leaving him and Arthur alone to talk.

'What?'

'I believe you made me a promise?,' Arthur said, and Alfred continued to stare blankly back. 'On the baloney. The night after you brought me in with my back? You promised me you would say a certain something to Allistor.'

The lightbulb went off, and Alfred gulped thickly as his stare slid away over to where Allistor leant against the Lamborghini, his bulging forearms never looking more threatening.

'Right now?'

'Yes. Right now.' Arthur's eyes twinkled with an emerald glint, and teasingly laced his fingers with Alfred's to pull him along over to where his brothers waited. Seamus nodded to them as they approached, and slid into the driver's seat whilst Arthur took shotgun. Alfred hovered with his hand on the handle.

'You waitin' for a good luck kiss or something, laddie?' Allistor cracked, and Alfred sent off a quick prayer before he readied to release the floodgates. He could feel Arthur's and Seamus' stares on him, so focused they could of burnt.

'No. Nothing, nothing at all…Matron,' Alfred smirked, only to have it drop when he saw the look on the Scot's face. He had never seen such a vivd red.

'Okay, great talk, byeeee~!,' He blurted before he dived through the window into the backseat and slapped the back of Seamus' seat. 'Drive man, drive!'

'What  _FUCK_  did you just say?!'

'Drive!'

* * *

Spades District, Indigo Light's Street, The Train Station.

'He's never gonna let you back in the house again!' Seamus howled, slapping over the wheel as he pulled up in a dimly-lit back alley, not ten metres from Spades' train station where the jangle of crossing bells, the squeal of metal on metal and churn and chug of the train's engines drowned out the chatter of their riders.

'Oh, his face!,' Arthur wheezed, clutching his stomach as he laughed; the sound making Alfred's stomach flutter. 'I would have paid to have taken a picture!'

'Yeah, yeah. Glad you're laughing it up now, because when we get back, I'll be lucky if Allistor doesn't decide to pop my head off.' Alfred grumbled with his head rested back against the soft leather head rest, and Arthur twisted in his seat shoot him a pitying look.

'We had a good run, love.'

'Wow. They weren't kidding when they said you were cold.' Alfred bat back to pull a chuckle form Arthur and Seamus drummed his fingers on the dash.

'Okay girls, it's eleven. Good luck.'

'Thanks for the lift.' Alfred said before he copied Arthur's example and climbed out, shutting the car door as gently as he could; it was  _such_  a sweet car.

As Seamus reared the engine and tore away to swerve around the corner out of sight, Arthur shot Alfred an amused smirk as his stare dragged after it longingly. 'You know there's no way it's going to happen. Yellow is Seamus' baby.'

'Not even if I ask  _really_  nicely?' Alfred tried, only to have Arthur return with a scoff as he made for the metal fire escape attached to the building to their right.

'As Oz would say "Not on your nelly!"' He threw back over his shoulder and leapt high to grab onto the fire escape's bottom platform and heave himself up.

Alfred watched appreciatively as Arthur began to parkour his way up to the roof of the delict building. Arthur's gymnastic displays always a pleasure, not just for the flattering angles they provided his audience with (angles that Alfred was now shamelessly allowed to enjoy), but for the hypnotising lean gracefulness of his movements. The way that Arthur's legs extended into the long splits, the power with how he was effortlessly able to support his entire body weight with one hand alone— it sent shivers down Alfred's spine, and made heat pool in his lower gut.

How had he been so blessed that this breathtakingly beautiful man was in love with him?

When Arthur was the last three floors from the top, Alfred shook his head out and tensed his legs before he straightened up to launch up himself like a rocket. His boots loudly crushed against the roof's gravel just as the top of Arthur's head peeked over the brick ledge.

'Show-off.'

'You know, I'm never against carrying you. You weigh, like, nothing,' Alfred grinned as Arthur dropped down and approached, looking down to the train station in the next block over. 'In fact, I bet I could of thrown you, jumped, caught you,  _and_ stuck the landing.'

'Don't be ridiculous. As if I'd ever allow you to throw me around like a rag doll. Oh—  _fantastic,_ we're the last ones to arrive.' Arthur huffed, Alfred following his stare to see that he was right.

Oz, King, North, Svea, and Gaul were already on top of the station roof, stood in a loose circle whilst the metros hummed and screeched below them. Arthur strode ahead, propping up a boot to jump down, when Alfred's hand snapped forward and yanked him back.

'What?' The Brit hissed, and Alfred's eyes narrowed on Gaul, unable to ignore the nauseating twist of the his gut at the sight of the frenchman's face. Arthur noticed his glare, and sighed before he pulled his arm out of his grip.

'It's just one job. One we can trust him to do.'

'It's not the mission. I don't trust him to behave himself around you.' Alfred gritted through his teeth.

Arthur barked a laugh, 'Alfred Jones, I never pegged you for the big-bad alpha jealousy type,' He chuckled, though his laughter died off when he saw that Alfred was serious. With a sigh, ' _Honestly_ ,' Arthur removed his mask before he gripped Alfred by the collar, and pulled him down into a long, deep french-kiss; the slipping dip and dart of his clever tongue into the other's mouth drawing a low moan from the American as his rigidness melted, and he found his hands to move on their own as they slid into gold locks and ventured lower to massage a toned buttock.

'That—was…' Alfred gasped flushed when Arthur broke away, heatedly tugging on his lower lip with his teeth, before he released him, stretched onto his tiptoes and pecked Alfred on the tip of his nose.

'There's no competition love, you know that.' He purred, husky rumble of his voice and cocky confidence about him making Alfred's legs turn to jello and steam whistle out of his ears whilst Arthur replaced his mask.

'Nu-uh.' He nodded numbly, thoughts a gooey scrambled mess as his brain struggled to reboot.

'Alfred.'

'Nu-uh.'

'We should go.' Arthur reminded with the smuggest smirk before he swaggered forward and suavely leapt down.

'Yeah.' Alfred mumbled as his feet stumbled over themselves. When he found them again, and swiftly stepped after Arthur, he was unable to swipe off his ridiculously happy grin as he fell.

Again, how was he so blessed?

* * *

'G'day ya wankers—Woah, bloody hell. New threads Britannia?' Oz whistled out a low impressed note as Arthur came up from his landing tuck and roll, Alfred close behind him as they joined the other vigilantes.

'For the special occasions.' Britannia bat back, and there was an near audible shuffle of pleasant surprise. The Britannia Angel?  _Bantering?_

North wavered over and curiously ran his index down Britannia's shoulder, tasting the woven enchantments in the fabric. 'Impressive. How long did this take you?'

'Years, if you'll believe it.'

'I do. King could do with one.'

'Hey! My suit rocks!' King exclaimed.

'You tripped on your cape on the way over here.' Svea deadpanned to make King's face turn a brilliant shade of red.

'No! I—That's not true, Britannia, that's not true. Slander! Slander I say!'

Britannia gave a low chuckle, and pricked up his ears when he saw Oz nudge and lean in to Alfred's ear. 'Mate, you didn't say you'd be arriving with Britannia!'

'Yeah. We're cool now.' Alfred grinned back to make Arthur's heart flutter, and he find himself wanting to reach out for his hand, when—

'Oh my god! That's Britannia! Britannia! Oh—and King, Columbia! Janet, Janet! Look!' A woman down below on one of the platforms cried out, and there was a chorus of excitement as more and more pedestrians began to notice the vigilantes' presence on top; many scrambling to take out their phones.

'Perhaps, it is time we moved on.' Gaul muttered, his long black gentleman's coat flapping in the wind, and everyone gave a nod of agreement.

Britannia straightened up. 'Alright everyone. We all have our missions,' He announced just a train began to pull out of the station for Spades, 'Check in on comms before engaging. Columbia, Gaul, on me!'

With that, Britannia ran and vaulted over the barrier, using his catlike agility to skilfully land on the moving train's roof with a metallic  _bang!_

Back on the station roof, Gaul immediately took off after Britannia, with Alfred wishing his Guardians luck before he followed to.

* * *

Spades District, Onyx York Street, Cardverse.

When the train passed over the street, Britannia, Columbia and Gaul dropped off onto a building behind Cardverse, the club itself built with many layered tiers like that of a cake; lit up in indigo, blue and purple spotlights with electro-bass music thumping in the night.

'Right. The launch event is taking place on the first floor of three, with there being a large underground area that serves as the club's warehouse.' Allistor's voice crackled with a static pop in all their ears as they gazed down on the extensive queue that waited outside to trickle in.

'That's gotta be where Wang is stashing 'X' and the captives.' Alfred whispered.

'Gaul, where do you suspect Wang will have your information?' Britannia muttered to Gaul, the frenchman's stare intent on the upper tier of the club building.

'His office, on the top tier, most likely locked down in a vault.' He said.

'Cymru, update on Wang's location?' Britannia asked.

'Wang's in the VIP lounge on the third floor. The first and second floors are dance floors and packed with people.' Dylan answered, and there was another static pop when Matthew opened his mic.

'The way down to the warehouse is mostly clear. See that window between the drainpipe and sign? Go through that and there's a network of staff hallways you can use to get to the basement— Uh, Eíres? When you spotted the place, how many men did you say Wang had?'

'Twenty-one. Seven for each floor.' Seamus returned.

Matthew sighed, 'You gonna stick with that?'

'You gonna tell me I'm wrong? Because I'll tell  _you,_ I am  _never_ wrong.'

'Guys! Focus!' Alfred snapped to Britannia's right, the American's jaw squared.

'My point is, there are nearly twice that number in there.' Matthew laid out, and there was a collective groan.

Britannia rubbed his temple as he felt the early throb of a headache coming on. 'Cymru?'

'Unfortunately, Acadia's right. Wang's brought in more men.' Dylan confirmed.

'Since last night?!' Seamus squawked, and Gaul looked at Britannia and offered a shrug.

'You did say that he was expecting you.'

'Wang's had nearly two days to step up security. It makes no sense for him to change it overnight,' Allistor muttered, 'I don't like this Britannia.'

'A few more men is nothing we won't be able to handle. We are not aborting the mission. Cymru, an estimate on the new numbers?' Britannia requested, and there was a quick burst of mouse clicks and keyboard tapping.

'At least forty, likely all armed.'

Britannia sighed and looked between Columbia and Gaul. 'I suppose we had better watch ourselves then.'

Gaul smiled, and they all straightened up as one. Britannia brought his finger up to tap his earpiece and speak over the vigilantes' shared channel. It was time to start the mission.

'This is Britannia with Columbia and Gaul. Initiating mission in T minus thirty seconds.'

'Understood. This is North outside of Clubs.'

'Ten-four, ya boy Oz ready at Hearts.'

'King and Svea, good to go on Diamonds.'

Columbia tapped in his ear piece to join in. 'Alright Guardians, let's move out!'

There was a chorus of cheers, and Britannia raised a eyebrow when they dropped out of the channel. '"Let's move out"?'. In the corner of his eye, he saw Gaul back up for a running jump.

'Look, I haven't nailed down the team call yet, okay?' Columbia pouted as he braced to run when Gaul passed him and launched himself off the roof, catching hold of the previously highlighted window Matthew had directed them to.

'Team call?' Britannia scoffed.

'Yeah, y'know. Avenger, assemble. Titans, go! Autobots, roll out. All great teams have to have an awesome catchphrase.'

Opposite them, Gaul unlocked the window and slid it up before slipping inside, shooting back an impatient look that finally prompted the two to jump.

'That's ridiculous,' Britannia huffed as he clambered in after the American. The room they had entered was clearly a liquor cabinet, with shelves upon shelves of amber tinted bottles gleaming in the low light. 'You don't need a cheer to be considered great.'

'Easy for you to say. You're "The Britannia Angel".  _The_ Britannia Angel. You know you've made it when people add a "the" in front of your name. You've never even needed a catchphrase.' Columbia argued, and Britannia saw Gaul cross his arms.

'Britannia, lui faire s'il vous plaît arrêter de parler. Mes oreilles saignent.' Britannia, please make him stop talking. My ears are bleeding, the frenchmen hissed.

'Ne soyez pas si mélodramatique.' Don't be so melodramatic, Britannia tutted back, not caring for the Gaul's switch to french so Alfred wouldn't understand, as he moved past Columbia over to Gaul by the door. He cracked it open to peer outside.

A long hallway stretched in either direction, dark and stylishly lit by neon indigo lights, and was most importantly, clear of any of Wang's yakuza. Heavy bass music pulsated through the building to make every beat feel as though it were experiencing a miniature earthquake.

'Il ne devrait pas venir avec nous. Il est vous distraire.' He shouldn't have come with us. He's distracting you, Gaul bit back, and a hot flame lit up in Britannia's gut.

'If I wanted your opinion, Gaul, I'd ask for it. Until then, keep your mouth shut. You'll get your bloody information.' He growled back in English, smirking in satisfaction when the man winced. That handled, Britannia switched focus over to Columbia and received a confirming nod.

They were ready.

* * *

The way down to the warehouse was uneventful, peppered only by the occasional guard that Columbia would choke out. When they eventually made it to the basement level—Britannia had had trouble hearing himself think over the deafening thumping music and cheers of the club goers—Gaul had stood guard at the door and Columbia had darted towards the back, searching for the slaves that he had told Britannia about. This left Britannia himself to set the charges against the towering shelves lined with crates.

After he had finished, the Brit grunted when he unsheathed his knife and used it to pry open one of the many blue Spade marked crates. The wooden lid popped off, and Britannia frowned when he saw the contents inside.

Instead of the fine white powder that he had come to know as 'X', Britannia was met with thousands of tiny glass bottles filled with clear liquid, and labelled in fancy calligraphed text ' _Drink Me_ '. He selected one, and had to swallow back down the bile that jumped up his thorax that came with an resurfacing old memory.

'That's…disturbingly specific.' Allistor said Britannia's thoughts, and Britannia numbly nodded.

'Extremely' He muttered before turning to see Columbia approach with a small crowd of young girls and boys, all strikingly pale and scared with wide eyed. 'Is that everyone then?'

'No. Ellie,' Columbia motioned to the petite redhead to his right, 'says that there are still some hostages on the dance floor. We gotta round everyone up before we get them out.'

'Non. That will take too long, every second we spend increases the risk of our discovery, and I refuse to leave without my information.' Gaul protested walking over, and Columbia turned on him.

'Are you kidding me? Do you even care about the hostages?'

'You seem to be forgetting who is responsible for this entire operation.' Gaul icily rebuked, and both men looked to Britannia to be the deciding vote.

'We still don't know what information Gaul is after.' Allistor whispered, and Britannia silently agreed. There was no other way around this.

'We'll have to split up.'

'Split up?' Columbia uttered, the high tilt at the end made Britannia's gut squirm with guilt.

'There are four objectives here. Rescue Wang's hostages, extract the location of the neuroscientists, retrieve Gaul's location, and destroy the stash of 'X'. Seeing as the charges can be detonated remotely, dividing up the remaining objectives between us makes the most sense.' He laid out methodically.

'What do you have in mind, mon cher?' Gaul asked, and Britannia replaced the bottle of 'X' before he rested both hands on his hips.

'I'll approach Wang directly and draw his forces' attention on me. That will give the two of you some wiggle room to rescue the hostages and get into Wang's office.'

'No. No way, it's insane to try to take on all Wang's men on yourself.' Columbia objected.

Britannia waved away his disapproval. 'I have the Valkyrie suit. I could not be in better shape for such a challenge,' He smiled before he looked at Gaul. 'I'm going to want pictures of that information.'

Gaul shook his head. 'I am afraid that was not an element of our agreement, mon dour ange. If you wish to know my secrets, you'll have to exchange it for something in return, a kiss, say?' The frenchman winked.

Britannia groaned and decided to drop the issue with a quick shake of his head at Columbia who looked ready to strangle Gaul. 'Is everyone clear on the plan?' He asked, and was met with two nods.

* * *

Hidden behind a blue column, Britannia breathed in a deep breath as he watched Columbia take off with Ellie for the lounge where the other hostages were; Gaul in the other direction for the upper floors. Around him, the crowd danced, and jumped, and stomped, the thudding club mix gasoline; the bitter burn of alcohol, drunk, messy kisses, loud laughter, sweat, and the tang of smoke all swirled together to suffocate Arthur's senses.

'Cymru, cut the music in five.' Britannia said, and pushed out of his hiding place to stride for the baloney ledge that had a view of both light up disco floor below and third floor. He ignored the complaints of the dancers as he pushed past and jumped up onto the half-wall. Right on time, Dylan cut the club's music, and before the roar of disappointment could be released, Britannia unsheathed and raised his gun to pop three shots into the ceiling.

'EVERYBODY OUT, NOW!' He bellowed at the top of his lungs, noting how Dylan had linked his mask's mic to the speakers to amplify his voice to an almost a deafening effect. 'WANG, FACE ME!'

As the club exploded in screams, erupting into a frantic, chaotic stampede for the exit, Britannia looked up to see Wang approach the baloney on the third floor, narrow his eyes as he searched for the intruder, and finally, smile when he saw who it was. The mob boss, in a midnight blue prim suit, with his hair slicked back into a low dark ponytail, extended a hand to have a microphone be placed in it.

'Britannia, welcome to Spades. Would you care to join me up in the VIP lounge?' Wang amplified voice's reverberated through the space, and Britannia cocked his head up at him, half listening to Allistor as he whispered that Columbia had one hostage left to evacuate.

'How kind of you.' He snarked back, and Wang's smile grew to a wicked grin.

'Excellent. I'll have my men escort you.' He said before handing the mic back, and walked away to disappear from sight. Britannia could practically sense the horde of incoming henchmen, like the roaring rush on an tsunami wave.

'I think I'll find my own way up.' He muttered to no one, and with the familiar warning chill shivering down his spine, stepped off the half wall to plummet to the dance floor, narrowly missing the grab of a creeping yakuza.

Britannia landed hard on his knee, the enchantments in the Valkyrie suit absorbing the impact, straightened up, and was immediately forced to bend back to avoid a flying kick. He back-peddled to recover from the assault as more and more men steadily rushed onto the floor.

Within a matter of seconds, a loose ring had formed around Britannia. Hands lunged for him, and with his magic hot and pumping through his veins, Britannia's form vibrated and exploded into a flock of brilliant blue butterflies. Untouchable, they swarmed forward a short distance away before reassembling into their previous humanoid state; the magical transformation dash all occurring within the span of a second.

Britannia dashed again, pressing the advantage of having his opponents stunned by his magical display, and thrust out his hand to send of a telepathic push. The men within range were blown off their feet back into the ones behind them, sending them clattering to the floor like bowling pins. But Britannia didn't have time to celebrate.

He may have had everyone he faced outmatched, but the net was closing in fast, and as quickly and surely as grains of sand drained in an egg timer, Britannia was losing ground to defend himself with.

It wasn't long before Britannia, sweating, panting, came out of a butterfly dash to be clipped by a lucky right hook. The punch sent him stumbling, breaking his agile combat flow, and Britannia cried out when another punch crunched into his ribs. He lashed out with a wild kick, and had a flash of satisfaction when it collided the puncher's head, only to have it vanish when a beefy arm snaked around his neck and squeezed.

'Grab him!' A yakuza shouted, and Britannia thrashed as his limbs were immobilised, man after man clamping onto them so that he couldn't move them an inch. The crowd of yakuza split before him, and Britannia's writhing turned hysterical when he saw that they were parting to make way for a lean asian man bearing a black katana blade.

'Hold him still!' The man cried, unsheathing the great blade, it's keen edge glinting, and Britannia fought to control his breathing, regain some composure. Except he couldn't. His lungs were screaming for air, he was too distracted, with large black spots starting to overtake his vision, too disoriented to dash away, even call upon any of his magic.

Britannia screwed his eyes shut, bracing for the impending agony of being run through, (and he knew it well, with the last time having him nearly losing his liver) when there was a rush of air, and a loud  _thud!_ in front of him.

Blinking through the tears, Britannia could of cried out in relief when he saw the back of Columbia's navy suit, the American having caught the katana's edge with his fingertips and effortlessly holding back it's swing with his herculean strength.

'Now. That ain't no way to treat a fella.' He drawled in an exaggerated southern accent, before he shattered the blade with a flex of his fingers, and roundhouse kicked the samurai in the chest to send him flying.

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Britannia jackknifed and smashed his head back against his immediate restrainer, forcing him to release his chokehold with a howl, and butterfly dashed out of the other yakuza's grip. He reappeared against Columbia's back, and with a wide sweep of his hand, telepathically shoved the wave of men facing him onto their backs.

Finally with a chance to breathe, Britannia bent over spluttering and gasping, hungrily sucking in deep gulps of air before he rubbed at his sore throat and glared around to Columbia.

'Took you—bloody long enough.' He rasped again between fits of coughing.

'Sorry, I should of gotten here nearer.  _Although,_ the hero has gotta make his dramatic entrance, don't he?' Columbia winked, clearly seeing that Britannia was not seriously harmed enough to deem jokes inappropriate.

' _Honestly._ ' Britannia huffed when there was the crackle of his comms opening.

'Britannia, Wang is moving up to his office. You have to move.' Allistor directed, and Britannia gave a grunt of acknowledgement before he looked up to the third floor's baloney where he had seen Wang last, a plan already shaping in his mind.

'Columbia?'

'Yeah. I got it, Wang's moving to his office. Heh—need me to carry you this time princess?' Columbia quipped back. Britannia rolled his eyes and playfully nudged him in the back with his elbow.

'Just follow my lead, that is, if you can.' Britannia teased back and leapt high to begin running along the heads and shoulders of the yakuza crowd toward the baloney; the unlucky men beneath his feet crying out as he pushed off them like stepping stones. As he got close, Britannia coiled his muscles like a spring and launched himself off the tallest yakuza like a springboard, snapping out a hand to catch onto the baloney's ledge.

As Britannia heaved himself up, the ledge shook as Columbia landed beside him in his favoured 'superhero landing' pose, grinning like an idiot when he straightened up and held out a hand to assist Britannia up.

'Must you keep showing off like that?' The Brit grumbled as he accepted the hand and allowed the American to pull him up before breaking into a stride for a door-lined hallway tucked away at the back of the abandoned lounge; the vigilantes' strides broke into a run when the lounge's staircase that would take them up to Wang's office on the top floor came into view at the end of corridor.

Columbia raised an eyebrow. 'How else am I supposed to compete when you go "Extra Ninja"?'

'I don't go—' Britannia cut himself off when a unsuspecting yakuza stepped out from one of the doors, zipping up his pants. Without missing a beat, Britannia slipped down to tackle him baseball style, sliding low to deliver a sweeping kick and knock the man's feet out from under him. The man's cry warped into a whelp when Columbia's punch met his face mid-air, rocketing him tumbling ahead. Maintaining his momentum, Britannia kicked off the floor and dived over the man's twitching form, tucking and rolling before he rightened back into a sprint.

'Like I said, "Extra Ninja".' Columbia smirked at him as they took the stairs two at a time. Britannia opened his mouth to retort, only to come up speechless when they reached the top of the stairs.

* * *

Wang's office opened to be not the typical kind you would expect to find, but rather—Wang's office looked as though it were designed by an overly eccentric child; mismatched colourful furniture and a light feature that resembled a half-melted disco ball. Extending from the top of the stairs was a stretch of floorspace, like that of a ballroom, before a raised platform jutted out, among which Wang and the jade man (the wrist Britannia had handcuffed and broken in a cast) stood. However, most importantly, and most strikingly, planted guard in front of the platform, with tactical gladiator with their sword unsheathed, was the White Queen herself.

Ice trickled down Britannia's back, and despite knowing full well that Alfred's Lucid immunity was a better than any weapon he could possess, that Alfred could literally shatter metal and concrete with his hands and leap over buildings, Britannia reactively pulled Columbia behind him as he simultaneously unsheathed his black latin machete off his back.

'Oh shite.' Seamus vocalised all their thoughts as Britannia drew his pistol in his other hand, forcing himself to take deep, steadying breaths as he glanced between Wang and the White Queen.

'Britannia, I'll take the White Queen. You get Wang.' Columbia lowly muttered in his ear, whole body rigid with tenseness, and Britannia shook his head.

'I would agree, except that I am the one she's after. She's not going to get her eyes off me. No, I'll fight the White Queen, you handle Wang.' He argued and thumbed back the safety off his pistol.

'Here's a bright idea. Why don't you  _both_ fight her?' Matthew bit over the comms with sarcasm.

'Yeah, and try not to get your arses beat this time.' Dylan snorted.

'Lads, keep an eye on Wang. That snake might try to sneak away in the fray.' Allistor warned, and Britannia gave a curt nod before he tensed to spring.

Columbia leant his head in as he to sank into stance. 'Okay. Britannia, how'd you wanna play this?'

'Let me lead and wait for your opening. Do  _not_  hold back. If you can get even one solid hit on her, it could be enough to down her.'

'You got it,' Columbia returned as mirrored Britannia's tension. 'Ready?'

'Ready.' Britannia confirmed, and sprang.

* * *

How could Alfred describe his and Britannia's fight with the White Queen. Well— if he could even say that. The way Arthur and the White Queen fought it…

People didn't move that fast—they  _couldn't._ Arthur and the White Queen were just black and white blurs to Alfred, sometimes moving so fast against each other that they merged to become grey; the monochrome whirlwind spastically broken up by the amber sparks when their blades clashed, and the brilliant bursts of blue when Arthur exploded into a swarm of butterflies to dash away.

But even though Alfred was unable to track their battle—let alone spot an opening like Arthur had expected him to—he knew that Arthur was being pushed back. He didn't have the strength to push back, crying out when the White Queen bore down on him with their blades locked.

* * *

'Watch your feet!  _Watch your feet!_ '

'Attack! Be aggressive! Get off the defensive!' His brothers unhelpfully shouted in his ear, making Arthur bear his teeth as he did everything he could to avoid getting hit.

'What do you think I've been trying to do?!' He hissed back, the distraction proving to be long enough to allow the White Queen to knock his blade away and land a hard kick against his already throbbing ribs.

Britannia staggered back, wanting to curl in on himself with his side on fire. Alfred's warning cry came just in time for him to Bleed, and igniting his magic, and instinctively triggered a spell he had dubbed 'God's Right Hand'.

His hand blazed a fiery gold, incinerating it's glove, and as the White Queen swung, Britannia borrowed a page from Columbia's book and caught the blade before it could slash him.

'Columbia, now!' He cried, gritting his teeth as he struggled to push back against the White Queen's strength. He didn't have the power to sustain the grip like Columbia could.

The stripped and starred hero saw his chance and rushed forward to running-punch the White Queen hard, wincing when he heard something snap, and the White Queen smacked against the wall like a rag doll.

Britannia frowned at Columbia as he shook off the lingering pins and needles in his fist as his magic dissipated back into his blood.

'You pulled your punch,' He said, almost accusatively, and ignored the hurt look on Columbia's face in favour for the White Queen as she shakily climbed back to her feet. 'You shouldn't of pulled your punch.'

'Jesus Britannia, I don't wanna kill her.' Columbia frowned.

'She won't mirror your mercy.' Arthur warned back, wishing for once that Alfred's morale compass wasn't so righteous. If he had hit her harder, she would of gone down, and stayed down, leaving the path to Wang open.

'Britannia—'

But Columbia's words were cut short when an invisible fishhook yanked Britannia's chest forward and over to the waiting White Queen. She grabbed him, and in a flash; wrapped him into a chokehold, drew her hip pistol, hammered back the safety, and aimed between Columbia's eyes.

Arthur froze, not daring to breath.

_No._

He jerked his elbow up, and the White Queen's bullet went wide, the bang blasting Britannia's eardrum to ring with white noise. Moving like a crazed animal, Britannia whipped out the knife strapped to his lower back, and brought it down into the woman's thigh.

The White Queen cried out, and as Britannia felt her hold on him release, he reached back and ripped away her mask.

* * *

Time.

Time stood still as green eyes stared back at dark gold, and the rest of the world fell away.

In that moment, as Arthur's trembling fingers lifted off his own mask, letting it drop to the floor, he was not the Britannia Angel. Not a hero, a friend, a brother, nor a lover.

In that moment, Arthur was just a boy. A scared, lonely boy standing in front of his—

'Mother.' Arthur rasped, barely a whisper, around the inflated lump in his throat that choked him. Wet tears pricked the corners of his eyes as a icy, numbing chill spread throughout his body to paralyse him.

'Surprise! Now it's this  _just touching_ ,' A voice, that sickeningly familiar voice sang out from far away, and from the shadows,  _he_ stepped out as a mirage. ''Ello poppet~'

_No._

No. No.

No, no no no no no no no.

**_No._ **

'You would not  _believe_  how relived I am to get this off my chest. Wow. Carrying this little golden nugget with me all these years has been a chore, I'll tell you. I admit, I came close to cracking a few times, especially last night. Mmm, oh yes. Last night was—how to put it— incredibly  _strenuous_. But, ah~ Arthur, seeing your smile now, makes it all worth the wait.'

Arthur's knees gave out from under him. Unrestrained tears freely fell down his face. His hands clamped over his mouth.

He was going to be sick.

'It's all been building. It's all been building, and I'll tell you, I have plans. I have big, with a capital 'B' big, plans.'

'You are not going to fucking take him.' Someone—Alfred, growled, and there was a high musical laugh.

'Oh, I'm not going to take him. Because Arthur is going to come with me willingly. Isn't that right, love?'

All eyes must have been on him, but Arthur couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel anything.

'No!'

'Yes, little Alfie. Yes he is. Because right now, more than anything, Arthur wants answers. Answers only I can give him.'

'You sick,  _fucking_ —'

'Would you like that that, love? Like to know all my dirty little secrets? My dastardly deeds? Why Mommy's over there, and not dead at the bottom of the ocean?'

Arthur's brain vaguely registers that he's shaking, chest violently, yet silently convulsing.

A sigh. 'Now, love, I can appreciate that this is a lot to take in. But sweetie, I  _really_ would like to wrap this up so—'

There was a snap of fingers, then two explosions as the White Queen—no,  _Mother_ —put two bullets through Alfred's kneecaps.

'ALFRED!,' Arthur shrieked, snapping out his disassociation as the American crumpled to the floor with a scream. 'No, no, no, no, no!' He pleaded, dropping to his knees beside him, hands scrambling to come away bloody.

'Oh~ That looked like it hurt,' Hatter giggled, and raised his hand. 'Let's do that again.'

'NO! Please! Stop!,' Arthur's voice broke on the last word, bowing his head defeated. It was too much. It was all too much. 'I'll go with you, please, just— _stop._ '

'Arthur. No—Arck!' Alfred gritted through his clenched teeth, his knuckles white and his hair plastered to his forehead drenched in sweat; blue eyes, blue, beautiful blue eyes, pinpricks with desperation.

'You—Urgh! You can't—Not again.  _Not again._ '

'If I don't—'

'No! I don't care, no!'

Arthur wept, his vision blurring as the droplets fell off his chin and dropped onto Alfred's poor beaten and battered face. 'I can't heal you, you idiot. I can't—'

'Together, or not at all! That's what you said! That's what we do!' Alfred begged, and Arthur's lip trembled as he slowly shook his head.

'Not this time, love.'

It was Alfred's time to cry now, ugly, blabbing, hagged sobs as Arthur cradled him, leaning down to press their foreheads together. He took Alfred's hand into his own and place it over his heart.

'This is yours, now and always.'

'Arthur, p-please—please,  _no_ —'

'And don't you dare blame yourself over this, because I know you will. This is my fault. And ever given the choice, I would choose your happiness, your life, over mine, each and every single time.'

'Arthur! No, please, you can't do this! You can't do this Arthur!  _PLEASE._ '

'You are a good man, Alfred F. Jones. And even if it wasn't for very long, being by your side made me the happiest man in the world,' Arthur breathed as he gripped Alfred's hand, feeling how his body uncontrollably shook, and pressed a tender, chaste kiss to his forehead, lingering in bitter-sweet a second longer to breathe him in, engrave the scent into his memory. 'I can't lose you. Not you. So please,  _please_ , just this once, stop being the hero. Don't get up. Don't look for me, I won't be there…

I love you. So  _fucking_  much…and I am so, so sorry.'

With that, Arthur stood up, each step he took away from Alfred, and towards Hatter, an eternity. Alfred's whimpering pleads to come back, to step away from Hatter, to not to go— _god please_ , each a stab in Arthur's heart.

If Alfred was the sword in his heart, Hatter's satisfied, cheshire-cat grin was the hooked dagger in his gut as he stopped in front of him.

'Something to say to me, love?' Hatter cooed with a cock of his head, blinking his eyelashes with false innocence, and Arthur smothered the surviving ambers of his dignity.

'Take me.' He whispered.

'Take me, what?' Hatter giggled, and a fresh wave of tears broke free down Arthur's face.

'Take me,  _please_.' Arthur choked, and felt the last of the warmth inside him die out when Hatter smiled softly and cupped his face with both hands, electric blue eyes boring into watery green. His gaze drinking—no, drowning—Arthur as a thumb came up to wipe along the tear tracks running down his cheeks.

But Arthur couldn't feel it. The numbing ice inside him was back, harder, and colder than before; the personification of a deadman walking.

'Of course, Arthur~'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha- ha, ha...help.
> 
> Not sure when I'll be able to update again, though the best answer is after the 15th of December.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you 'enjoyed' this chapter. If you are, please take the time to consider leaving a review leaving me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading, and as always.
> 
> Until next time folks!


	25. The Calm before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 25! And oh my gosh, the responses I got from the last chapter were amazing. Special shout outs go to AlwaysForever, who wrote me a freaking essay of a review, thank you so much. And to slfx14 for the touching praise. Honestly, you have no idea how much it means to know that you actually enjoy my writing. So to all of you, the old fans, and the new, thank you. Thank you so much.
> 
> And now with that out of the way, let's jump right back into it,
> 
> Enjoy!

Hearts District, Unknown, Unknown.

Arthur slowly awoke to the sound of muttered voices and a shadow looming over him. When he blinked to focus on it, the haze that clouded his vision cleared to reveal it was a face he knew.

'Doctor Connors?' He rasped.

The middle-aged neuroscientist let out a relieved sigh before he looked back over his shoulder, 'He's awake!'

There was a chorus of shuffling and chairs scrapping against the floor, and then three more faces appeared to look down at Arthur; who recognised them all as the other missing neuroscientists: Doctor Kent, Doctor Song and Doctor Lecter.

Doctor Song, a woman with a frizzy halo of sandy blonde hair, knelt down to Arthur's level as he slowly sat up, trying hard not to wince at the throb of pain that pulsated behind his eye, 'Are you alright, sweetie?'

'Where—Where am I?' Arthur groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose when the floor swayed beneath him.

'You are Yao Wang's prisoner, the same as all of us,' Doctor Lecter replied, his voice deep with an almost purring rumble to it. 'As to where we are being held, none of us can answer that.'

As soon as the room stopped spinning, Arthur looked to see that they were in a plain, windowless room, it's borders lined with large whiteboards where lines of texts, equations and diagrams had been drawn. There was no visible door, with the only other thing to break up the monotony of the room being the small, circular air vent that was about the size of Arthur's head.

When Arthur looked down, he saw that he had been stripped of his Valkyrie suit and weapons, left bare-footed, and dressed in a white t-shirt and shorts, made from the same flimsy fabric quality one might expect from a hospital gown; possibly the least threatening, and least protective thing Arthur had ever worn whilst captive.

He clenched his fist, and understood why his headache refused to ease. His magic was far away from him, the metaphorical magnets that he would pull apart to Bleed intangible in his mind's eye. Hatter, or his mother, must have given him something.

'Don't get too close. He's known to bite.' A irritatingly familiar voice sneered, and Arthur's eyes narrowed on Roderick Edelstein huddled in the back corner of the door, a large purple bruise blooming on his jaw. Anger helped Arthur ignore how his fatigued muscles shook as he forced himself onto his feet.

'I suppose you're feeling quite smug right now.' Arthur spat, and Edelstein shrugged his shoulders.

'Not really, no. You were our greatest hope of rescue, but that is clearly no longer an option.'

'I wouldn't be here if you had just told me the truth that night on the cruise ship!'

'What is he talking about?' Doctor Connors muttered to Doctor Song, unaware of how his whispering was actually closer to a stage-whisper.

'Either way, Arthur, it makes no difference to our current predicament. A fact I implore you to remember before you have any urges to assault me.' Edelstein said in a bored tone, and with great difficulty, Arthur concentrated on his breathing until he was calm enough not to want to punch the Austrian doctor in the face.

'Arthur? Was that your name? Just—who are you? What is Roderick talking about, you being our hope at escape?' Doctor Song asked, and Arthur took another deep breath before he moved so that he could address all of them.

'I am the Britannia Angel, and I've been searching for all of you ever since you— Doctor Lecter— first went missing. Another vigilante, Columbia, and I had been investigating, and we discovered that Wang had an agent, The White Queen, kidnap you to develop on Edelstein's research into a neurotic drug known as 'X'. We, along with Terra's other vigilantes, managed to destroy most of Wang's stock of it, but…he still has some left, and I got captured.' Arthur let out a sigh after he was finished, the need to sit down greater than it had ever been since he had woken up.

There was a long silence.

'You're the Britannia Angel?' Doctor Connors uttered, blinking at Arthur as though he couldn't believe it.

Doctor Song's hand was over her hand, 'But—you're just a boy. You're so young.'

'Arthur, or Britannia if you wish, you said that you were working with others?' Doctor Lecter pressed, and Arthur shook his head, already guessing where his line of thought was heading.

'I'm sorry Doctor Lecter. Even if I did know where we are, Wang has given me something to block my powers. I can't get a message to them.', It was though the whole room had stopped breathing, and Arthur felt a lump swell inside his throat under the frozen stares of the neuroscientists. 'What? What is it?'

'Do you mean to tell me, you are Lucid?' Doctor Connors pleaded, giving a small shake of his head as if begging for him to say no. Arthur's stomach was fill of lead as he instead nodded, and looked to Doctor Song when she gasped.

'No. No you can't be.'

'Why else do you think they brought him here?' Edelstein reasoned, and Arthur felt the floor begin to sway beneath him again.

'But—that's—'

'River, it does make sense.'

'What does? Please! If you know what Hat—Wang is planning, you have to tell me.' Arthur begged.

The scientists looked between each other, before Doctor Connors stepped forward and motioned Arthur to follow him to one of the whiteboards. On the board, there was drawing of a vortex, a dot at the centre.

'What do you know about Roderick's research?' The doctor said, and Arthur shrugged as he quickly scanned the rest of the board, words like 'area-effect', 'resonance' and 'synchronised' jumping out at him.

'I understand that 'X' can increase brain activity to dangerous levels. That is can be devastating to neural and cognitive functions, especially to whose that are Lucid.'

'While that is correct, there is an additional effect when administered at a specific dosage, one that affects the way the brain perceives wavelength.' Doctor Connor explained.

Arthur frowned at him, 'What do you mean?'

'Whether we can sense it or not, on a molecular level, every person gives their own unique wavelength. Some wavelengths frequent, operating on a higher level such as an Lucid individual is capable of, some not. Now—imagine that every person that takes 'X', their wavelength completely flatlines. They are no longer unique, they are all thinking and processing the same way.'

'Like, a hive mind?'

Doctor Connors looked down, his expression pinched, 'Yes. Exactly like a hive mind. They become like a clear body of water, and should someone Lucid Bleed within range—'

'It would be like throwing a peddle into that water. A ripple effect. Every mind would mirror the Lucid's wavelength, bolstering it's effects to unprecedented levels.' Doctor Lecter stepped in, and bile threatened to jump into Arthur's mouth when the vague memories of what had happened when Hatter had forced him to take 'X' resurfaced. He manifested a small portion of Wonderland into the room. He had literally torn apart a rip in reality to make a non-existent place real; defying one of the fundamental law's of nature. He had created something from nothing.

Arthur stared down at his hands. Oh god. What had he done?

'They're going to bring my dreamscape, Wonderland, into this reality.' He breathed, and shivered when all eyes snapped onto him.

Doctor Song cleared her throat, 'My boy, you're talking about the sustained merging of two entirely separate dimensions. It's not possible, it's—'

'Madness,' Edelstein breathed, his violet stare locked onto Arthur. 'You've done it before, haven't you?'

'Is that true?' Doctor Connor paled as Arthur stiffly nodded, his hands curled into shaking fists, 'Then God have mercy on us all.'

Everyone jumped when there was a loud thud! and a section of the wall slid open to reveal two yakuza standing behind it, one of them held a pair of handcuffs.

'Arthur Kirkland,' He said, mouth twitched as though to fight against the smirk curling on his face. 'Our client will see you now.'

* * *

Spades District, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirkland Residence.

'You both not only went my back, but you also involved the other Guardians in your recklessness. You were lucky no one was killed!' Germania shouted over the line, causing Matthew to wince. He wished he hadn't had to be the one to tell Germania about their failure last night; how they hadn't managed to destroy Spades' stash of 'X', and they hadn't learned where the missing neuroscientists were. But given the near-catatonic state of everyone in the apartment, the misfortune had fallen to him.

'How is Columbia?' The DIA agent sighed.

'The White Queen shot him in both legs, but miraculously, nothing's broken. I—I think it's something to do with his bone strength being approximate to the force he can output?' Matthew said, running a hand down his face as he leant back on the party sofa; Seamus and Dylan sitting opposite him, the former vacantly staring out the window whilst the latter robotically flipped through the TV channels.

'And Britannia?'

'He's—' Matthew's words died at the murderous look that Seamus shot him, sharp enough that he could of bled him, 'He disappeared after he got Columbia.'

'I see…Acadia, allow me to make this clear. From here on, if you, or Columbia, or any of the Guardians act against my orders, you will be reprimanded for insubordination. Do you understand?'

Matthew gulped, 'Yes, sir.'

The line cut and Matthew slumped down, feeling as though he ran a marathon, unable to feel his legs. What had his life become? With effort, he heaved himself up and dragged his feet over to Allistor's Med Room. Inside, Allistor was tightly binding Alfred's knees whilst he was perched on the operating table. Both their gazes were dark and downcast to the floor.

'How is he?' Matthew asked, and only received a hard nod from Allistor in response. After what seemed several seconds too long, Matthew decided he had sweated on it long enough, and loudly cleared his throat.

'So—uh, Alfred. Germania called, and well…he's kinda benched all of us. Like—we go against him again, it's insubordination.'

'Add it to fucking list.' Dylan growled from the living room, and Matthew turned back to him.

'I'm—I'm sorry, but we can't be a part of this anymore.'

' _Can't be a part of this?_ ', Seamus spat as he rose up from his seat, 'You're the reason we're in this fucking mess!'

'Excuse me?' Matthew took a step back as Seamus squared up to invade his personal space.

'It was your idea to bring the other vigilantes. If you hadn't just decided to stay put the night at the Jasmine Dragon—'

'If we had, then it'd wouldn't have made any difference!' Matthew argued, 'All that would be, is that Wang and the White Queen would have taken Arthur sooner.'

He gasped when Seamus grabbed him by the collar and wrenched him up, bracing the punch that would surely follow.

'SHUT IT!' Allistor roared as he stormed over and shoved the two of them apart. He glared between them, chest heaving. 'Biting each other's heads off is going to solve nothing!'

'There's nothing to solve, Allistor, because there's nothing we can fucking do!' Dylan yelled. 'We have no fucking leads, no clue where they have Arthur, let alone if he's still in Terra, or even  _the country_  for that matter!'

'Even if we did know where he was, we would be talking about going up against Wang, Victoria  _and_ Hatter alone.' Seamus bitterly reminded, with Matthew not missing the glare he sent his way.

'You won't be.' Everyone's heads snapped around to see Alfred leaning heavily against the doorframe, clutching to it to support his weakened legs.

'You—' Matthew stepped around Allistor, starting forward with his hand half-stretched out when his brother stumbled with a sharp hiss. 'You shouldn't be up so soon.'

'How can you expect me to rest,' Alfred gritted with clenched teeth. 'When Arthur is…'

Matthew averted his gaze. This was the part he had been dreading the most. 'Alfred, you heard what I said—'

'How can you say that?' Alfred hissed, the intensity of his stare causing Matthew to squirm.

'But, the Guardians—'

'This is Arthur, Matt.  _Arthur_. How can you—expect me to just, do nothing?' Alfred pushed himself off the frame, wincing as though each step were like walking on nails as he approached.

'You're hurt, what exactly do you think you can do in this condition. You can barely walk.' Matthew tried and his gut knotted itself over when Alfred shook his head.

'I will never turn my back on the people that need me. Especially my family…I love him, Matt. I love him so much, and—and the look on his face when he…' Alfred's voice cracked and he had to take a moment to compose himself before he could continue, pure venomous hate burning in his eyes. 'I'm going to tear that bastard apart.'

'Aye.' Allistor, Seamus and Dylan agreed as one, and all eyes turned expectantly on Matthew.

'Matt?' Alfred said, and Matthew sighed. He knew he was beaten.

'There's nothing I can say to convince you, is there?' He asked, when Alfred nodded, he gave another sigh. 'I guess I'm in then. After all, you're completely hopeless without Acadia.'

Alfred's lip wobbled as he smiled a watery smile and sniffed, and Matthew felt the knot that was his stomach loosen just that bit more, 'Thanks Matt. I mean it. Thank you. I'll never forget this.'

'Yeah, yeah, whatever. It's just a job, so stop crying and wipe your nose. You're getting snot everywhere.' Matthew deflected with a wave of his hand when there was a knock at the front door. He stepped aside to let Allistor cross the floor, and the Scot opened the door to find that their housekeep, Reina was stood behind it holding a parcel.

'From the mayor. The whole street's got them, think it's some kind of freebie.' She stated as she pressed it into Allistor's hands and returned to the lift without another word. Matthew raised an eyebrow as the Scotsman shut the door and returned back to where he stood.

'From the mayor?.' Dylan frowned and Allistor tore open it, only to freeze at what he saw inside. His face was unreadable as he took out a small glass bottle, labelled in neatly calligraphed text, ' _Drink Me~_ '

'That's it?' Seamus asked with his arms crossed, clearly unimpressed.

'And this.' Alfred said and reached in to pull out an advertisement leaflet for the Terra Founding Festival, the same festival that was taking place later on in the day.

'I know where Wang is,' Allistor suddenly announced, and smirked everyone stared at him with slack jaws. 'We have to go to the Founding Festival.'

'How did you get that from a glass bottle?' Matthew wondered, and Allistor held up the glass bottle.

'Last night when Arthur was searching through Spades' crates of 'X', this was what was inside. Glass bottles just like this one.'

Matthew's eye went wide when the puzzle pieces clicked together, 'Oh my god, they're giving 'X' out at the festival.'

'What the hell. Why would Wang want that?' Dylan asked.

Alfred clicked his tongue before he looked to Allistor, 'Dude. We gotta get down there. Give me the strongest painkillers you have, and let's go.'

* * *

Hearts District, Unknown, Unknown.

Arthur grimaced against the sun's harsh rays as the door at the top of the stairwell swung open, and he was led out onto a rooftop garden. After blinking away the white spots from his vision, Arthur registered three things: one, the rooftop they were on was a skyscraper; two, said skyscraper was in the Hearts District of Terra, overlooking the Queen's Square where the Founding Festival was preparing to launch could be heard below. And three, leant against the glass railing that lined the green rooftop, was Hatter—wearing the sickeningly smuggest grin Arthur had seen—and his mother.

He tested the small give of his cuffs as he was frogmarched over to the sitting area where they stood, and raised an eyebrow at the teatime spread on the wicker dining table. That irked him. Somehow, he felt that Hatter wasn't taking him seriously—although…Arthur studied how his mother was stood to attention, one hand resting on her holstered hip pistol. If Hatter had positioned her there, to make sure he didn't try to jump, then perhaps not.

'How much of my mother is still in there?' He glared with a slight nod toward her, and Hatter gave a thoughtful hum before he pushed himself off the railing and danced over.

'Nothing left, I'm afraid love…Well! Best not dwell in our grief! Look at this lovely tea party I threw together just for us,' Hatter beamed as he dragged Arthur over to the table and cast a sweeping wave over it. He plucked up a baby pink tea cup and pressed it into Arthur's shackled hands.

'Here. Earl Grey, piping hot. Just as you like it.'

Arthur took the cup, and locked eyes with his demon before he dropped it, the fragile china shattering against the concrete, 'Oops.' He unapologetically deadpanned.

Hatter's eye twitched before a forced smile curled onto his lips. 'That's quite alright. Plenty of tea to go around.'

'I know what you're planning Hatter. I know what you intend to do with 'X', and I'll tell you, it won't work.' Arthur growled and squared his jaw when Hatter threw back his head to laugh.

'As expected, you clever-clogs! Well? What do you think?'

'It's insane.'

'Well-suited for the both of us then.' Hatter giggled, and Arthur stepped forward to play the pity card.

'Hatter, please. You have what you want, you have me. You don't have to do this, you can just stop.' He pleaded, and when he reached out, Hatter did not hesitate to take his hand.

'Oh Arthur,' Hatter squeezed their hands with a sad smile, 'what an incredibly naive thing to say.'

Arthur blinked and tried to pull away when Hatter brought a hand up to cup his cheek, but Hatter held him fast. At the moment Hatter touched him, his palm inviting a chill down his spine, Arthur gasped when the world blurred around him into a whirlwind of colour, and when it stopped, and he and Hatter were standing in Wonderland.

Only, it was a Wonderland Arthur could scarcely recognise. His Wonderland was of sprawling fields of wild flowers and rustling green grass; sparkling springs, bubbling streams; elder pine forests of birdsong. This—what Arthur saw—was not his Wonderland.

The sky above bled crimson and a fermented yellow met the black land on the horizon. All around them, the grass and the flowers were rotted; a sickly sweet black blight corrupting their natural greenness. The air was stale, with no breeze to offer any kind of relief, and perhaps the worst thing of all, was the terrible silence; the complete devoid of any life.

Arthur covered his hand over his mouth whilst Hatter deeply inhaled and sighed, 'Not quite as you remember is it?'

'Wh-What did you do?' Arthur choked around the tightness of his throat.

'Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. How many times do I have to tell you? It's not me who did this to Wonderland, it's you. Everything you see, it's all because of you. But don't worry,' Hatter smiled and narrowed the distance between them so that his hot breath washed over Arthur's face, unbearably close, 'I'm going to save you from yourself, Arthur. That stubbornness of your's is going to get yourself killed otherwise, though—I suppose, you wouldn't be you if you weren't that way,'

The engorged lump in Arthur's throat killed any words he might of had, and Hatter grinned as he took it as a submissive sign and rubbed his thumb across his cheek, 'There, there. It's going to be alright. It won't hurt that much, and afterwards, we'll truly be together as one, how we're meant to be.'

Hatter's hand dropped from his face, and a hook yanked on Arthur's gut as Wonderland dissolved around them to jar them back onto the rooftop. His mother's steady, empty gaze had never left them, making it seem as no time had passed at all.

'If what you wanted was to be one with me,' Arthur gritted. 'Then why did you never just—take me like the others.'

Hatter rolled his eyes at him, 'Bloody hell Arthur, I'm not a  _monster_. I can't just 'take' anyone, I need their consent first before I can step into their body. But, I believe what you are trying to ask is, why I've never tried with you. Well, you see, when I possess someone, I take everything, their mind as well as their body. There's nothing of themselves left.  _So_  love, if I so wanted to 'take' you, then you won't be the Arthur I love anymore. And everything I have done to this point will have been for naut.'

'Can't live with me, can't live without me.' Arthur huffed, and Hatter smiled with a cock of his head, reaching up to brush Arthur's bangs away from his face.

'You know, perhaps when we've got our Wonderland back on track, maybe if I'm feeling generous, I'll give you little Alfie to play with as a reward. It could be like our housewarming present—' Hatter never got to finish the end of his sentence as Arthur lunged forward and cracked his head against the man's freckled nose.

Hatter stumbled back, and Arthur was on him, eyes ablaze with greek-fire as his hands wrapped around Hatter's pale neck. Unbelievably, rather than gasping for air, Hatter began to laugh manically, thrusting out a hand to ward off his mother—who had surged forward in his defence—and gripped Arthur's wrists to slowly pry him off. Arthur grunted when Hatter shifted his hips to throw off his balance and reversed their positions, slamming him back against the ground so that he was top on. He roared in frustration at his powerlessness as Hatter easily straddled his hips and pinned his bound wrists above his head, leering down at him.

'Oh~ That's so silly of me to say. Of course I'd never let him live, not after what he did. Touching you, kissing these lips—Ha! As if you could ever be anyone else's but mine!'

'Let go of me, you sick fuck!' Arthur snarled, writhing and throwing himself against Hatter's vice grip to get free. 'I'll fucking kill you—Argh! You won't get away with this. I'll never,  _never_  bring Wonderland to this dimension!'

'The wheels are already in motion, poppet,' Hatter cackled, drawing a tight groan from Arthur when he ground their crotches together, and then twisted his fingers into his hair painfully at the roots. 'It's been delightfully catching up, but the next time you wake up? That's when the fun really starts.'

And with that, before Arthur could even conjure any thoughts of resistance, Hatter lifted up his head and lights exploded behind his eyes as his head was slammed down hard, plunging him into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very much 'Heroes gear up for the final battle' chapter. We finally know what Hatter has been planning this entire time, we meet the missing neuroscientists (hats off to whose of you who could spot the references, and name where each one is from), and we have some more understanding about Hatter and Arthur's worsening mental health. Wonderland is not looking so wonderful, let me tell you.
> 
> Matthew had his own character moment this chapter, essentially giving up on the Guardian's Job (that he really wanted) for Alfred. Honestly, part of me felt that he was being a bit too cold/harsh to the Kirkland brothers when they had just lost their little brother, but on the other hand, that scene just could of wrote itself. Those of you who write yourself, you'll understand what I mean. You can play out a scene, except when you come to write it, your characters will act completely on their own accord. Well, this was the case with Matthew.
> 
> In my head, Matthew kinda of, hit a wall. He has had to endure Alfred's relentless chasing after Britannia, had to follow his say so on every decision, and I think some part of him, even though it probably hasn't the right time to come out, went 'No. I want this for myself, and I'm going to dig my heels in for it.'. It's a tricky one for me, because truthfully, I agree with both arguments on that. Matthew deserves to be allowed to want something for himself-The Guardian's Job, but there are some things that just cannot be compromised on.
> 
> I think that given any other situation and context, anything else where Arthur's life/sanity didn't hang in the balance, Alfred would have been willing to listen. But this wasn't the case, and there's no way Alfred would ever turn his back on Arthur. In the end, Matthew realised this, and was the bigger man for agreeing. Like I said before, it's a tricky one. I think maybe if Arthur and Matthew were closer, had had the time to get to know each other and bond, then Matthew would have been more willing to give up on his job in favour for rescuing him, but-same as before-that didn't happen.
> 
> Can't make any promises when the next chapter will be up, only that it will be a biggie. Like, BIG. It's gonna be the beginning of the end, and there's gonna be epic character moments and payoffs, fights, fireworks, angst, drama, all that good stuff.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you are liking the story, please take the time to consider leaving a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading, and as always,
> 
> Next time folks!


	26. Wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 26! I'll be honest. Life has hit me like a freight train, and it doesn't show much time of stopping. My course is ramping up, I'm writing game reviews for a company, I've taken up swimming again in combination. I've got other fics on the go in more active fandoms, and like said I said, being honest here, the difference in feedback is significant. Any fellow writers will be any to relate to what I'm saying: it's hard to stay motivated for a fandom that isn't the most proactive in leaving feedback. Don't get me wrong, Hetalia has such a coveted, special place in my heart, but sometimes, it's just hard...
> 
> Now, enough doom and gloom, onto the chapter that is long overdue! Thank you all for your patience, and let's jump in!
> 
> Enjoy!

Terra City, Hearts District, Queen's Square

With limbs of dead lead, Arthur could do nothing as he carried out into the square. His head lolling weakly against Hatter's shoulder, seemly the only solid thing in the world. Under the effects of his first dosage of 'X', the square that swam around him was a swimming vortex of oversaturated colour and pulsating music. The glass-eyed, "X" induced crowd dazedly parted for Hatter as he made for the White Queen's parade float before the Town Hall. An enormous pearl made of silk, lace and tissue was the centrepiece of the float, the fabric curtained delicately so that it cleverly hid it's hollow interior.

'Please. Don't,' Arthur breathlessly pleaded, his throat painfully tight. Hatter did not look down to him. 'Please. If…you love me…'

Hatter's footsteps stumbled a step as they climbed the stairs up onto the float. 'It's a little late to be playing that card, don't you think?'

Arthur tried to grip the man's shirt, pull him down to demand. But his strength had all but evaporated, so he managed only to weakly paw at him. 'Hatter,  _please._ '

Hatter deeply sighed before he met Arthur's eyes. Something—hesitance or even guilt, perhaps—passed behind his own. He leant down to press a kiss to Arthur's forehead and then said wistfully: 'Not all the luck in the world could stop this, love.'

On top of the float waiting for them, was Wang along with a small collection of his men. Despite the carefully schooled blank faces most of yakuza men managed to pull off, it was clear that they would be glad to have this business between their leader and Hatter put to rest.

When Hatter was about to step inside the pearl, Wang stepped forward with his brows drawn together, 'A moment before you begin?'

Arthur could hear the low whistle of air through Hatter's teeth as he turned back. 'Yes?'

'Where is Victoria? You were meant to give me her when you had what you want.' Wang said with a suggestive glance down at Arthur, and Hatter tightened his grip on him.

'Patience Wang. You'll have the White Queen once I have completed my work here. Then, and only then.'

'Wang,' Arthur rasped in desperation, grasping the very tips of his final straws. 'You can't—You have to know what he is. How can you just—'

'You are wrong, Arthur. It is not that I do not know, but that I do not care,' Wang sighed with a sad, pitying smile. 'I don't care what happens today. I don't care what happens to you, or any of the people here. At the end of the day, all I care about, is how will it benefit me.'

Arthur stared at him in disbelief, which corroded to utter repulsion, 'Cun—.'

'This is the part where you leave.' Hatter cut in with a growl, the dangerous glint in his eye promising a bad time if Wang didn't leave right  _now._

Wang gulped, and gave a shift bow. 'We will be out the city within the hour.'. Hatter waited until the line of black SUVs drove out of sight before he turned back to the pearl and stepped over it's threshold.

Arthur whimpered as a strange weightless came over him, and Hatter shushed him as he guided him to the centre where he bobbed like a buoy on water, his hair and clothes floating as though he were under it.

'There, there poppet. You're going to dream of our Wonderland. You're going to see it, and I am going to bring it through. When you wake, it'll be a new world, our world.'

'Hatter, please. I don't want this.' Arthur begged a final time when he saw Hatter take out a syringe from his inner coat pocket. 'X'.

He couldn't help but gasp when the point pricked his skin, and the already intense colours brightened like the sun. Arthur's lids were fighting a losing battle as he tried to keep them open, his vision quickly darkening as his mind spiralled, losing it's grip on his senses as he was drug down into his subconscious. The last thing he remembered before the final plunge, was a soft hand caressing his cheek whilst a voice whispered: 'Dream Arthur. Dream, and we'll both be free.'

* * *

Spades District, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirkland Residence.

Down in the car garage, or more precisely, shotgun in the front of Dylan Kirkland's armoured Jeep, Alfred Jones huffed. After Allistor had shot in him up with the strongest painkillers he had, and Dylan had geared up in tactical body armour, the two of them had headed to the lift only to realise that Seamus and Allistor hadn't joined them. 'Give us a sec!' Seamus had called. And so, after a curious exchange of looks, Alfred and Dylan had gone ahead down to garage to start the car. Dylan had laughed at Alfred's metaphorical tail drooping when he had learnt that they would not be taking Seamus' yellow Lamborghini.

Alfred jumped when the backdoors clipped open and Seamus and Allistor clambered in, slamming them shut. The American raised an eyebrow at the three large duffle bags that they carried, one in particular loudly clattering with something that sounded like metal on metal.

'What are they?' He asked.

Seamus winked at him and unzipped one of bags to reveal the Britannia mask sat atop it's folded suit. Inside the bag, alongside the Britannia suit, there was a set of matching pistols, ammo belt, and a sniper rifle.

'You took the Britannia suit?' Alfred said, unsure how it made him feel. Imagining the sight of any other hair, except Arthur's blond, poking out behind the gas mask pinched his gut.

'We have to keep up appearances. Dylan, we brought your goodies.' Seamus passed the other duffle he held forward for inspection, and Alfred swallowed around the lump in his throat when he saw Dylan reach in a pull out a hand grenade.

'Good stuff. Thought you were putting me on the backline.' Dylan smiled as he returned it and then clicked the button for the garage's metal shutter to start raising.

'I have a feeling we're gonna need everyone we can get for this.'

Alfred clipped his seatbelt on and eyed the last duffle balanced on Allistor's lap, the one that had sounded metallic. 'So, what's in bag number three?'

Allistor drummed his fingers on it, but made no move to open it, 'Our trump card.'

Left at that, Dylan pulled out of the building, and they turned onto the road for the Heart District.

* * *

Terra City, Hearts District, Rouge Street.

'Hey. Why've we stopped?' Seamus said, and Alfred jerked awake, rapidly blinking the sleep from his eyes. Damn. He'd underestimated how drowsy the painkillers would be when the adrenaline wasn't there. 'We're not there yet.'

'Take a look laddie.' Allistor nodded forward. In front of them, where would normally be a crossroads that would take them directly into Queen's Square, was an overgrown by a thicket of gigantic roses sprouting the pavement and concrete; thorn spiked stems crossed between two buildings to block the road ahead. The surreal sight reminded Alfred of Sleeping Beauty; a castle surrounded by thorns to guard the sleeping princess and the evil fairy that hoarded her.

'Uh—you seeing what I'm seeing bro?' Alfred asked with a slack jaw.

'Oh yeah. I'm seeing it alright.' Matthew deadpanned.

'Acadia, are there any alternative routes?' Allistor said, and there was a fevered tapping on a keyboard.

'Okay, this is going to sound weird, but I can't get anything on the square. No visuals, nothing. There's like er—, this black out radius around it.'

'Britannia?'

'On it.' Seamus stated and hoisted the duffel onto his shoulder before he got out. Alfred watched as he jogged over to one of the buildings where the roses grew from. With the ease of a professional gymnastic, Seamus scaled the building's side up the fire escape and disappeared over the top.

After about several minutes, 'I have eyes on the square.' Seamus' voice popped with static over the comm channel, breathing slightly laboured from the climb.

'What do you see?' Dylan asked.

'The founding festival. Square's packed. There's more of those giant roses everywhere.'

'You see Wang?' Alfred pressed, subconsciously leaning forward in his seat.

'Negative. None of his men either…In fact, I don't see any personnel, of  _any_ kind. No security, no float attendees—oh my god.'

'What? What is it?'

'I think I see Arthur.' Seamus whispered.

'Where?' Allistor hissed.

'One of the parade floats. The Mad Hatter one. There's this tea party table, Arthur's sat at the head of the table. He's tied down, I can't see his face, and  _shi—_ '

'Britannia?!'

'Hatter. Hatter's on the fucking float with him.' Seamus growled, 'No visual on the White Queen—I mean, Victoria.'

'We're moving in on your position.' Allistor acknowledged and gave Dylan and Alfred a curt nod. Alfred's gut squirmed as he returned it and the three exited the car as one.

* * *

Now suited up in the Britannia suit, Seamus didn't lower his sniper's scope when they crouched down beside him, giving only the slightest of side-eyes to Alfred when he brushed a hand against his shoulder. The air in the square was sickening sweet, too perfumed and heavy on the nose to smell pleasant. Down below, filling the space between the floats, the crowds' gazes were glassy, as though in a trance. Like they weren't even aware that they were standing next to each other.

'Where is he?' Alfred breathed, and Seamus motioned with an inclination of his head. Just as he said, Arthur was down on the Mad Hatter's float, Hatter hovered around him like a mosquito. The bastard wore an all-black suit and victorian tailcoat, whilst Arthur had been placed in what looked to be a white hospital gown. Like Seamus had also said, from the rooftop there wasn't a good angle on Arthur's face, not with his head slumped forward like that.

'Okay, so what's our move?' Dylan asked, hands busy as he unzipped his duffle and clipped on his grenade and ammo belts. Alfred bit the inside of his cheek at the packets of C4 and thermite.

'Well, the cavalry's all here and I have a shot.' Seamus goaded, a hint of giddiness there.

Allistor shifted his weight, dark green eyes darting across the square. 'Not yet. Columbia, Cymru and I will go through window in the next building over, down into the square. We get into position. On my signal, Britannia takes the shot, Cymru throws down a smoke screen. Columbia, you grab Arthur, and I will take Hatter.'

'Wait, are you sure that's a good idea? Shouldn't I be the one who takes Hatter? I mean, I'm the one whose immune.' Alfred protested and Allistor shook his head.

'Aye, but I have something you don't.' The Scotsman winked and opened his duffle.

'The Green Armour.' Alfred gasped. Inside the bag was a medieval set of armour, the plating tinted sea-green making it look more like it had been moulded from some exotic jewel than metal. Lines of runic text had been graved into the breast plate, and it's helm prodded out with long curved horns that resembled a dragon's. If the entry on it in Arthur's spell book was to be believed, then that meant that whilst Allistor wore it, he would be completely indestructible.

'See? Nothing to worry about.' Allistor said, and then his jaw set. 'Right then lads, time to see what we're made of.'

In position, Alfred's back pressed against a street corner about ten metres away from Arthur, he could see Allistor—looking like a real knight donned in his enchanted Armour—check that Dylan was in cover. Over behind the blue caterpillar float, Dylan peeked out and gave a thumbs up. Allistor nodded, and then looked to Alfred. He made a ring with his index and thumb. Alfred mirrored the nod before tensing to spring like a sprinter.

'Britannia.' Allistor muttered.

'On your mark.' Seamus confirmed, and Alfred imagined him exhaling a deep breath to steady himself as he lined up with his crosshair with his mark.

'Three,

Two,

One—'

The shot exploded, and Alfred bolted forward. He jumped, and was given a glimpse of Hatter clutching his bleeding chest, a look of stupefaction on his face, before Dylan's smoke engulfed them. Alfred didn't try to see through it when he heard Allistor tackle Hatter with a metallic clash, the man screaming as they went over the edge.

'Arthur!' Alfred cried as he rounded the head of the table and shook the Brit's shoulders.

But the moment he touched him, Arthur's head slumped to the side, and then off his shoulders. Alfred stared in silent horror as the plastic mannequins' head bounced at his feet, the blond wig slipping off as it rolled.

It—

_No._

'It's a dud! Arthur's not here!' He yelled.

'WHAT?!' The Kirkland brothers exclaimed in unison, and a bellow of wind cleared away the smokescreen. A foot away, Hatter broke free from grappling with Allistor, bursting into a swarm of red butterflies to reform atop of the nearest lamppost with jazz hands.

' _Ta-da!_  How'd you like the show, boys?'

'WHERE IS HE?' Alfred shrieked, and Hatter giggled as he waggled a finger at him.

'Ah, ah, ah Alfie~ It's terribly rude to interrupt,' He winked before he swiped his gaze over Allistor and Dylan. 'Been awhile, hasn't it, brothers dearest? Russia, I believe—oh! But, one, two,'

Hatter raised a hand over his eyes, trained on the rooftop that Seamus was perched. 'And there's the third little piggy. Hm. In someone else's clothes to.'

'If you really want to make it like Russia, why don't you bring out Arthur and Victoria?' Dylan snapped, and Hatter waved a dismissive motion with a flutter.

'Mummy will be along, and as for Arthur, he's safe. Happily dreaming sweet dreams of Wonderland. Speaking of,' Hatter swept a had across the square and the entranced crowd slowly began to trickle into the surrounding buildings. There were a series of cracks as the square quaked as thorned vines as thick as three trunks erupted from the cobbles.

'Coming along quite nicely, don't you think?'

'That's your plan? Bring Arthur's Wonderland into this reality.' Allistor questioned.

Hatter icily raised a eyebrow, 'Not a fan?'

'I may take a  _slight_  issue with the part where you kidnapped my brother, yeah.'

'Pity. But if I recall, Arthur chose to be with me. Which reminds me,' Hatter's smug cat-like grin grew wider as he looked down at Alfred. 'How's the legs?'

'Why don't you come closer and take a look?' Alfred snarled, sliding his foot back, ready to throw himself like a coiled jaguar.

'Mongrel,' Hatter sneered at him, and sketched his arms wide, 'So what now, lads? Pull a half-arsed retreat and live to die another day?'

'I was thinking more like, we kick your teeth in until you cough up where you've got Arthur.' Dylan suggested.

'Aye. I'll second that.' Allistor with an audible grin as he sank into a stance.

Hatter sighed and the thorned vines writhed, hissing like cobras as they reared up and turned on them, 'You don't honestly believe it'll be that easy. Might I remind you, you are in  _my_ domain. You're not playing by your world's rules, we're playing by mine. And I don't play fair.'

On that last word, Alfred has forced to throw himself out of the way to avoid being skewered by a vine. Pain splintered up his legs, pulling a sharp hiss from his lips as he charged, dodging, diving and vaulting over followup vines that tried to swat and trip him up.

'We need an attack plan!' He cried.

'We have a plan. Attack!' Dylan grunted around the grenade's pin between his teeth, ripping it out and lobbing it. Hatter flashed a smirk before he butterfly-dashed away. But the moment he reformed on the ground, Allistor's gauntlet crunched into his face, smashing him backwards against a car.

'We have to have more than that!' Alfred insisted and caught the snaking vine that was snaking for Allistor's back. With a twist, he ripped it up from the garden and it shrieked before dissolving into darkness, 'Acadia!'

'We're running a two tank, two squishes. If you and Saxony cover Britannia and Cymru—'

'No! We need a real plan. Like—like, he said that Arthur's doing this, right? That means that he has to be nearby!' Alfred rationalised, and ducked when a car door came whistling for his head. Hatter's lips were pulled back over his teeth, shoulders heaving as he staggered to his feet.

'Alright then. Gloves off it is.' He spat out a mouthful of blood and snapped his fingers. A clap of thunder boomed, and from the sky, dropped a creature that Alfred had hoped he'd never see again.

The monstrous, skeletal Cheshire Cat grinned it's fanged pearly whites at Alfred before it coiled and sprang. Alfred braced for the collision, but the blow never came as the feline feinted right and slashed at Allistor. Razor-sharp talons squealed against metal in a flurry of sparks and Allistor was catapulted backwards. The cat pivoted, and Alfred cried out as it's tail whipped him, flooring him as he skidded a distance back on his back.

'Urgh! Seriously, if anyone has any ideas, now's the time!'

Dylan ran to Alfred's side and hauled him up, 'He has to be close. He has to be close,' He chanted to himself, his green eyes darting about the square. 'Somewhere close that's hidden.'

A spitting hiss was the only warning they got, and Alfred shoved Dylan out of the way before the Cheshire Cat could stamp on them. The paw came down, and Alfred grunted as he caught it, gritting his teeth as he was almost forced to his knees. With a yell, he twisted his grip in reversal, and launched the beast over his shoulder toward the White Queen's float.

' _NO!'_  Hatter bellowed, and Alfred frowned in confusion when he thrust out a hand. A swarm of vines snatched the cat out of the air before it could crush the pearl at the centre of the float.

Dylan exchanged a look with Alfred, 'Everyone saw that, right?'

'Aye.' Allistor grizzled as he regrouped with them, setting his helm straight.

'He's not exactly gonna let us pass.' Seamus hissed over the comms.

'Guys, I just checked thermals. Someone is definitely inside that pearl.' Matthew reported.

Alfred's gut clenched. 'Britannia, give me some covering fire. Saxony, Cymru, buy me as much time as you can!'

'Right!'

Whilst Seamus rained bullets from above, Allistor and Dylan charged to engage with Hatter when he moved to intercept. Alfred sprinted for the pearl. With the sounds of the brawl ringing out behind him, Alfred scrambled up onto the float, and saw that the pearl was not made of plastic as he had assumed, but of soft cloth and lace. He parted it the fabric folds, and his breath caught in his throat.

Inside was Arthur, softly glowing, ethereal as he slept. He floated, as though in zero-G, his golden hair gently fanned out like a halo to match pleasingly with the cream of his skin. The only thing missing to complete the palette was the fascinating sage-green of his eyes. Alfred could of stared at him forever, if it weren't for the raging chaos outside.

'Get away from him!' Hatter's screech shrilled beyond and spurred Alfred into action. Fingers trembling at the memory of the last time he had seen him, he reached out.

'Arthur?' Alfred pleaded as he carefully pulling Arthur down into his arms and gripped him tight. His hand slid up to caress the Brit's cheek as he shook him. He looked so vulnerable, the flimsy clothes he'd been dressed in looking as though they'd tear at the slightest touch. 'C'mon, Arthur. Arthur, you gotta wake up!'

A choked sob rose up in Alfred's chest when the man did not stir, and he clutched him closer against his chest, head bowed, 'Come back. Everyone's in danger. Allistor, Seamus Dylan, they're all fighting. We need you Arthur,  _I_  need you. Please,  _please,_  come back.'

Alfred gasped when Arthur's steady breathing hiccuped. The man gave out a low groan before he slowly opened his eyes. Green eyes, still glazed from deep sleep, stared up at him disorientated.

'Alf..red?'

'Oh my god. Arthur!' Alfred cried and surged forward to crush their lips together. Arthur gave a muffled squeak of surprise, before he came to and melted into the kiss. The sweetness was toe curling, the starved, desperate edge stealing the air from Alfred's lungs. All the anxiety, all the weight that he had been carrying since that night…all seemed so small in comparison of having Arthur, here, in his arms. They were good for each other, they belonged. It was  _right_.

Their breaths came out as laboured pants when they finally came up for air. Arthur wore that rare, wholesome smile as he reached up to cup Alfred's cup. 'I told you not to come…Of course you didn't listen.'

'It's like you said. I'm a daft duck.' Alfred softly chuckled, and moaned when Arthur pulled him down into another long smooch.

'My daft duck.' Arthur's eye twinkled when he released Alfred, whose face had blushed a tomato red.

The happy reunion was not to last. With a shriek of metal and tearing of fabric, Alfred bent over Arthur protectively when the top of the pearl was ripped open to the elements. Towering above them atop of the Cheshire Cat's head, Hatter stared down at the two lovers with an untameable , hateful wrath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you are liking this story, I'll be wrapping things up soon, please consider leaving a review to tell me about your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading, and as always,
> 
> Until next time folks!


	27. Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 27! The pre-ultimate chapter! We're so close to the finish line now. Apologises for the delay, I wish there weren't these big breaks between chapters but that's just the way it is sometimes. Thank you for your patience and everyone's support, I'm so grateful to everyone who has shared this journey with me.
> 
> And now, without further ado, the next chapter,
> 
> Enjoy!

Terra City, Hearts District, Queen's Square

'Move,' Arthur uttered as Cheshire reared up, his knuckles white as he tugged at Columbia's suit to spurn him into action. 'Alfred move now!'

Scooping Arthur tight into his arms bridal style, Alfred threw himself out of the pearl before the gigantic cat's paw stamped down where they'd just been. Arthur's head spun as they came up from the tuck and roll, and he blinked furiously to clear his vision.

The Queen's Square was a complete mess. Now empty of the 'X' induced crowd seen when he'd last been conscious, large parts of the cobbled ground had been cracked and upturned by colossal black thorns. The building fronts bordering the square had taken a beating, their lovely windows smashed in, and many cars and parade floats had been flipped onto their side.

A thorned vine snaked after them, and before it could trip Alfred's feet from under him, Allistor (decked out in the Green Armour) and Dylan (sporting a belt of explosives and a bulletproof vest) intercepted. Whilst they held off them, buying them some breathing time, Alfred ran into cover behind a minivan and gently set Arthur down.

'Are you okay? You're not hurt?' Alfred asked, his hands running up and down Arthur's body to check for injuries.

'Yes, yes, I'm fine. What about you? Your legs…' Arthur bit down on his lip at the tight sports wrapping above his knees.

Alfred shook his head, peeking his head out to check they were still clear, the sounds of battle raging on, 'Allistor wrapped them up good, and I'm on these real hard painkillers. I can't feel my face, but that's cool. We got you back.'

'Bloody hell. Alright—then, where are the Guardians?'

'Yeah, that's a no-go on the backup. We're on our own for this.' Alfred said, and winced when a fire hydrant sailed over their heads and crashed through a general store's newspaper cabinet.

'You're ruining everything! Why do you have to ruin this for us? I'm doing _for_ Arthur!' Hatter shrieked from beyond.

'How thoughtful,' Arthur scoffed and frowned when he reached for his magic, and felt nothing; where he had been expecting a great well, was a mere trickle. There was only one possible reason why. 'Hatter's syphoning my magic to bring Wonderland into reality.'

'Can you use any magic? There's no-- I dunno, banishment spell you can cast that'll get rid of all this?' Alfred asked with a frantic gesture to the chaos of the square. Crouching, Arthur peered around the side of the van to see Hatter throw his head back and laugh when a bullet passed through his head as though it were mist.

'It might be possible if I can concentrate. But even if you could keep Hatter distracted for that long, with Wonderland like this, he's supassed needing a vessel.'

Tensing when he heard footsteps race toward the van, Arthur's jaw gaped as he watched someone in the Britannia suit, carrying a sniper rifle, slide across the bonnet into a crouch at Alfred's back.

'Then what's the plan little brother?' Seamus asked and then nodded to him, 'Glad you're okay, btw.'

'We kill him.' Arthur resolved before there was a screech of metal as a vine curled around their van and their cover was ripped away.

'Arthur!' Alfred shoved him out of the way of the follow-up vine, sending Arthur tumbling. Missing its chance to grapple him, the vine flailed and whipped back into Seamus and Alfred, sending them crashing through the general store's window.

'Alfred! Seamus!' Arthur cried, a hand reached out from them, about to start forward after them, when Hatter blinked in front of him from a swarm of red butterflies.

'If you go back to sleep, we can avoid all of this,' Hatter sighed before he caught Arthur's thrown fist and gave a dark chuckle. 'No no. None of that now.'

'I have had enough of your games. I am _done_ with you hurting the people I love.' Arthur snarled as he swung his other free hand, only to have that caught as well.

'I'm doing this for you, for us!'

'You're delusional. You don't love me, you'll never have me. You're not real, you're a _concept!_ '

Hatter's eyes went cold, and Arthur cried out when his arms were twisted and Hatter threw him over his shoulder. The broken stone and the square's cobbles gashed his skin as he painfully skidded against it; his thin white t-shirt and shorts providing the protection of a sheet of tissue.

'Arthur!' Dylan cried out as he tried to skirt around the Cheshire Cat, but the monstrous feline wasn't letting him past. Behind Hatter's back, Allistor was running for the window store Alfred and Seamus had been thrown through.

'I'm delusional?' Hatter kicked Arthur down as he struggled to rise, the Brit rolling prone onto his back. The demon straddled his chest and a fist hammered against Arthur's jaw, snapping his head to the side.

'I'm not real?' Another fist, and then another. Arthur groaned as his lip split and blood filled his mouth.

'How _real_ does this feel?' Hatter grabbed Arthur's hand and crushed it against his chest, forcing him to feel his heartbeat. 'Does this body, my heart feel real, Arthur?'

'It doesn't matter how much it feels real. It's not. You're a ghost, a nightmare that fed off my fear and trau—' Arthur's green eyes went wide as he stared up at Hatter looming above him, panting heavily.

'Trauma. You're my trauma.'

Hatter stared at him for a long, unblinking moment before the corners of his lips slowly curled upwards. A disturbing, low laugh hiccuped, 'Took you long enough.'

Arthur choked when Hatter grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up, his bare feet frantically dangling as he tried to ease off the crushing vice grip, 'That corruption—in Wonderland…'

'That's right love. All provided by moi~' Hatter purred and slammed Arthur back down against the stone; white lights exploded behind his eyes as the air from his lungs was forcibly exhaled.

'H-Hatter.' Arthur wheezed breathlessly and Hatter playfully cocked his head to the side.

'You only met him once—the real one, that is. Every time after, was me.'

Arthur's pupils shrank, 'W-What did you _do?_ '

Hatter's grin widened, as eerily toothy and sinister as the Cheshire Cat's, 'Oh Arthur. I ate him, of course.'

Bile jumped up in Arthur's throat. His blood ran cold, ' _You_ —'

'I devoured him, his essence, his memories. They're all still in here,' Hatter tapped his temple, 'I am him, as he is me, and we are all together.'

Arthur just stared, in a petrified unseeing state of shock. He can't move, can't think; paralysed.

'But Arthur,' Hatter hovered over him, lips trembling inches above his own bloody ones. 'Please make no mistake. I love you, I love you so so much. I am yours, as you are mine. We belong together, don't you see? _We deserve each other~_ '

Thick, hot tears fall down Arthur's cheeks as he tilted his chin up in defiance and locked eyes with the man, 'Your words are poison. And I _hate_ _you_.' He whispered the last three words with distilled venom.

A chilled shadow darkened Hatter's face. His jaw squared as he pressed both hands on either side of Arthur's head as though going to crush it.

'Don't do this, Arthur. I'm trying to do this the nice way. There are only two ways this can happen. Either I bring Wonderland to you, or I bring you to Wonderland. Please, love. I know which I'd choose.'

'He chooses neither asshole!' Alfred's voice rang out before the man charged into Hatter, tackling him off Arthur with a shoulder-barge. Within seconds, Allistor was at his side and gripping his elbow to help him up on weak legs.

'Are you okay?' He asked as Dylan and Seamus grouped up with them, echoing the same questions of concern as Alfred stood protectively in front of them.

'I—I'm fine.' Arthur shakily nodded and snapped his head up when Hatter began to hysterically laugh as he clambered back on his feet.

'You couldn't have just left well enough alone, could you? Couldn't have fucking left well enough alone.'

'I will never turn my back on the people who need me,' Alfred looked over his shoulder to Arthur with the same whipped look he'd shared the morning they'd woken up together. 'Especially the ones I love.'

'Sap.' Arthur sniffed with a good-natured roll of his eyes. Alfred winked at him and then glared at Hatter as he leaned against the car he'd dented, exhaling heavily through his nose.

'I have had it with your pestering. I was willing to allow you to keep your insignificant lives if it would make Arthur happy. But now it is clear that as long as you draw breath, you will never stop coming back.' He growled.

'Aye. Our place, it'll always be between you and Artie.' Allistor stated.

Hatter chuckled as he locked eyes with Arthur, 'Are you listening love? Are you prepared for your loved ones to throw their lives away for you? Surrender to my will, and I will grant them the mercy of a swift death.'

Arthur gulped before he steeled himself and stood tall, 'Then, you'll just have to you kill me. Because I will die on my feet, before I live on my knees.'

Hatter snarled, electric-blue eyes flashing, 'No! No, you will live, and you will _watch_ as I tear them apart. And after, when you have no more tears to cry, I will drag you screaming inside your mind, down into the deepest, darkest pits of Wonderland where you'll never be able to crawl out again. Down there, what will be seconds in reality, will be years. I will have an eternity to break you.

And when you break—and you _will_ break—, you won't know your own name, only that you belong to me.'

'Everyone group up! Arthur, get behind me!' Allistor barked as he tugged him behind him. Following their brother's example, Seamus slung his rifle over his shoulder and drew his pistols in the same smooth movement, Dylan lowering himself into a readied stance, Allistor and Alfred already there.

'Okay, it's five versus two. No sweat, right?' Alfred quipped optimistically because someone had to.

'Four versus two. Arthur can't use magic, remember.' Seamus reminded.

Arthur huffed. Honestly, he was drained, not helpless, 'Buy me some time and I may have enough in me for one spell.' He said.

'A clutch spell I hope.' Dylan returned as he readied his explosives.

'Me to,' Arthur muttered already pulling at the deepest wells of his magic, scraping the sides for every last drop, anything he could take that Hatter hadn't. 'I need ten seconds. And someone to protect my body!'

'What?!' Alfred blurted as Allistor gave a curt nod and pointed to where two of the wide parade floats had been overturned on their side.

'Behind that cover!'

They ran. Dylan smashed the car window when they passed a taxi and tossed in a packet of C4. 'Alfred!' He yelled, and with a powerful kick, as though he were breaking down a door, all his super strength and body weight behind it, Alfred launched the taxi flying at Hatter and the Cheshire Cat.

Arthur had just ducked behind the overturned float when the explosion ignited and was followed up by two agonised screams. In defence, Seamus peeked around the side and began laying down suppressing fire whilst Allistor and Alfred clambered onto the top of their makeshift barrier.

'Whenever you're ready babe!' Alfred shouted down to him, and Arthur began to cast. A hook yanked on his chest, and Arthur strained against it in an indivisible tug of war for control. As his magic built, the mild headache he'd been tolerating turned splitting, building and swelling until the pain was comparable to an aneurysm. But it was enough.

Excalibur exploded into existence with a flash of flame and boom of thunder. He distantly heard Alfred and his brothers cry out in alarm. 'I've got this!' He thought he answered back, but in reality, it was closer to, ' _UHRHHARRGGH!_ ". Excalibur glowed white-hot, it's metal sizzling Arthur's hand, and Arthur knelt down before he spun the blade, closed his eyes, and plunged it into his chest.

* * *

'No!' Alfred cried, lurching forward only to be grabbed back by Allistor.

'Watch.' The Scotsman told him, and Alfred stared with a slack jaw as Excalibur gave a pulse of golden light, and then the extraordinary happened.

Another Arthur, ethereal, pearlised and semitransparent, a pair of colossal swan wings sprouting from his shoulder blades, stepped out of Arthur's kneeling form. He was completely naked, completely smooth, flawless without imperfection; the kind of beauty that ancient Greek sculptors would have given a limb to have as a muse. After gawking for a long suspended moment, Alfred's cheeks darkened when his gaze roamed downward and saw that there was nothing between his legs. Arthur—the spirit—angel—projection _thing_ — looked at him with pupil-less eyes that were completely washed out by white light.

'Not gonna lie. A little bit of pee came out.' Alfred squeaked as the angel leapt up beside him and Allistor. It was— Arthur...Alfred struggled to look back and see Arthur—the real Arthur—knelt on the ground with a sword through his chest, his head bowed, breathing slow and shallow.

'Has— Has he always been able to do that?' Matthew gulped over the comms.

'Nice party trick, eh?' Allistor smirked before he narrowed his eyes at Hatter, who was ogling at the angel with awe.

'Oh Arthur~ The gifts you give.' He sighed, and with a sweep of his hands, the dark thorns, save the ones barring the exits, retreated back into the concrete.

'But you know, you're not the only one who has tricks.' Hatter grinned and snapped his fingers. A piercing, shrill scream shook the square and blood-red magic circle opened up behind him, and a monstrosity emerged.

'What. The. Fuck. Is. _That?_ ' Seamus blanched as what Alfred could only describe as the devil itself, rose up and roared to the sky. It vaguely resembled a dragon, three times the size of the Cheshire Cat, and was covered in blighted black scales. Its yellowed canine fangs were as long his forearms, and it's leathery veined bat wings spanned the width of the entire square. It reared its triangular head, jaws snapping as it then craned its long neck down and sniffed the top of Hatter's head.

The man smiled at Alfred as he reached up and petted the thing's snout, wet, hot, heavy pants rustling his strawberry blond locks, 'Like him Alfie? Don't need to ask his name, do you? You read it in a poem once.'

'What?' Dylan asked, and Alfred balled his fists at his side.

'Jabberwocky.' He spat.

'With jaws that bite and claws that snatch!' Hatter gleefully finished. 'He knows some tricks to. Watch, Jabbers?' Hatter clicked his fingers and pointed at Arthur's body, Excalibur gleaming still, 'Fetch.'

The Jabberwocky surged forward, as did the angel to meet it.

'Protect Arthur's body!' Allistor yelled, leaping off the float after, and Alfred charged with him. He clamped his teeth together to smother a scream when splintering fire raced up his legs upon landing. The painkillers Allistor had given him were finally starting to wear off.

The Jabberwocky thundered toward them eyes aflame as crashing it came. The angel rushed forwardwith a burst of speed, closing the gap between it and the beast. Jaws, fangs snapped, but the angel was quicker. With a great flap of its feathery wings, it launched, landed, and then scrambled as it latched onto one of the needle spires lining the beast's scaly neck.

The Jabberwocky twisted and writhed, desperately trying to dislodge it, but the angel held fest. It reached down, gripped the root of the Jabberwocky's left wing, and ripped it off.

'I think I'm gonna puke.' Matthew retched as the Jabberwocky screamed, flailing as crimson blood sprayed, showering the angel, Allistor and Alfred in it's boiling hot red. Battling the urge to vomit himself, Alfred pushed through it and locked his sights on Hatter, the Cheshire Cat snarling at his side.

'Fine. Cheshire, take care of tin man.' He tutted and then ran at Alfred, the giant cat lunging for Allistor. With a flick of his wrist, Hatter manifested a wicked sharp kitchen-knife, it's hued edge glinting with a malicious shine; singing for blood, Alfred's blood.

Alfred's feet scuffled as he was forced to lean back to avoid getting his throat slashed, back peddling as Hatter advanced on the offensive.

'Come now Alfie, no need to be bashful! Have a closer look at her, ain't she a beauty?' Hatter crackled as he lunged. Alfred braced, sprung to dive out of the way, when he felt his leg seize up, pain once again racing up his leg to make him falter. Hatter saw his chance, and slashed in a wide arc, slicing through the Columbia suit to cut into Alfred's shoulder.

'Argh!' Alfred grunted, jerked, twisting as he tried to retaliate with a punch, the shooting pain of his legs weighing him down like an anchor. Unimpeded, Hatter grinned and lashed out with a kick, striking hard at Alfred's injured knee. Alfred cried out as he crumpled to the ground, shaking as his whole body began to seize up with the waves of pain that began to crash down upon him relentlessly.

Hatter laughed before he flipped the knife to his other hand and slashed low, severing through Alfred's bandaged legs to reopen the throbbing gunshot wounds he had inflicted.

Alfred screamed. He screamed over the crazed laughter, drowning out the cries of his brother and the Kirklands.

'Now,' Hatter breathlessly laughed, high and exhilarated, taking immense pleasure and satisfaction from his enemy's pain. 'Now you just have a lie down there, hm? I want you to watch this.'

'No…' Alfred rasped, bloodied hand desperately reaching out like a claw to pull Hatter back as he moved away and advanced upon Seamus and Dylan, Arthur's last line of defence, with the angel occupying the Jabberwocky and Allistor, the Cheshire Cat.

The edges of Alfred's blurred, fading to black for seemingly a moment, before he heard Seamus and Dylan cry out and the low thud of two bodies hitting the ground.

'No.' Alfred forced his eyes to squint, struggling, straining against the haze that threatened to drag him into unconsciousness. Vision swimming, he watched helplessly as Hatter straightened up and marched over to Arthur's body. With a fluid movement, he closed his hand around Excalibur's handle, unsheathed it from the Brit's chest, and stabbed the bloody knife into his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess Arthur's dead now, huh? ;) We'll have to find out in the last chapter...


End file.
